A 

BtRTRAND  SMttM 
14O  Pacific 
LONG 


I4KL 
UlUfiU 


S ARDIA 


A     STORY     OF     LOVE 


BY 


CORA  LINN  DANIELS 


BOSTON  MDCCCXCT 
LEE    AND     SHEPARD    PUBLISHERS 

10  MILK   STREET   NEXT   "  THE  OLD   SOUTH  MEETING   HOUSE  " 

NEW  YORK  CHAS.  T.  DILLINGHAM 
718  AND  720  BROADWAY 


COPYRIGHT,  1891,  BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD 


All  rights  reserved 


SARDI A 


I    DEDICATE    THIS,    MY    FIRST    NOVEL,    TO 


WHO,  IN  HER  LIFE,  UNWITTINGLY  FURNISHED  ME  WITH  THE 

TRAITS  FROM  WHICH  I  HAVE  DRAWN  THE 

CHARACTER  OF  HELEN. 

CORA  LINN  DANIELS. 


2046582 


"Devise,  wit!  write,  pen!  for  I  am  for  whole   vol 
umes  in  folio" 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  SINGULAR  WEDDING 7 

II.  AN  UNUSUAL  PROPOSITION 14 

III.  CONFIDENCES 22 

IV.  COMRADES 27 

V.  THE  PRINCESS 32 

VI.  TUB  BATTLE  BEGINS 39 

VII.  WHICH  WROTE  IT  ? 48 

VIII.  AN  ENEMY 55 

IX.  THE  SPIDER  SPINS 61 

X.  ALL  ABOUT  A  LETTER 69 

XI.  THE  VISONTI  SOLITAIRE 78 

XII.  A  WOMAN'S  HAND 83 

XIII.  PRINCESS  MENSHIKOFF'S  RECEPTION   ....  91 

XIV.  A  THOROUGHBRED 105 

XV.  UNREQUITED  LOVE 115 

XVI.  LONGING 124 

XVII.  IN  A  NET 131 

XVIII.  AT  LAST  ! 140 

XIX.  A  WEDDING  RING 153 

XX.  Two  HEARTS 159 

XXI.  DISCOVERED 170 

XXII.  A  VAMPIRE 178 

XXIII.  A  STUNNING  ANNOUNCEMENT 187 

XXIV.  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SERPENT 204 

XXV.  AN  ACCOMPLISHED  ACTRESS 212 

XXVI.  PROBATION 221 

XXVII.  THE  ROSE  BLOOMS  .                                             ,  228 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

237 

AVENGED    .. 249 

GOOD-BY 256 

AVOWALS 262 

SELF-CRITICISM 268 

CONDEMNED 275 

UNITED 282 

ALMOST  A  TKAGEDY 287 

THE  CROWN  AND  CROSS.                     ....  292 


CHAPTER 

XXVIII.    KEVELATIONS 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 


SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF  LOYE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

A    SINGULAR   WEDDING. 

"  Thrift,  thrift  Horatio  !  the  funeral  baked  meats 
Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables." 

Hamlet. 

IT  was  the  evening  of  their  marriage  day.  It  had 
been  a  singular  wooing  and  as  odd  a  wedding.  The 
bridal  party  had  made  the  little  trip  from  the  old  home 
stead  to  the  seaside  villa,  and  the  ladies  had  retired 
to  their  rooms.  Ralfe  Fielding,  the  groom,  and  Guy 
Thorne,  his  groomsman,  hurriedly  entered  the  library. 
"  I  really  don't  know  what  to  do  about  it ! "  exclaimed 
Fielding.  "  The  telegram  is  imperative !  I  cannot  let 
this  business  go !  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance.  And 
besides,  my  uncle's  old  partner  calling  me  to  his  death 
bed  !  How  can  I  refuse  ?  " 

"  You  cannot,  in  common  decency,"  said  Guy,  decid 
edly.  "  You  will  be  obliged  to  go  !  Let's  see !  "  con 
sulting  a  guide-book.  "  You  can  leave  here  at  eleven 
o'clock  and  get  there  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  Helen  ?  "  queried  Ralfe,  impatiently.  "  I  sup 
pose  she  must  be  told  ?  And  on  our  wedding-day,  too ! 
What  will  she  think  ?  Women  go  into  hysterics  over 
every  little  thing." 

"  Every  little  thing ! "  echoed  Guy,  slightly  astonished. 


8  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

"Helen  -won't  though,"  he  added,  quietly,  "she  is  too 
sensible.  Besides,  you  will  be  back  in  a  week." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,"  with  a  sigh. 

"Why,  man,  you  sigh  as  if  coming  back  were  the 
bore  instead  of  going  !  "  and  Guy  laughed  as  he  selected 
a  Havana.  "  But  we  have  an  hour  yet,  let's  smoke." 

Fielding  took  a  light  from  his  friend  and  said,  "  Guy, 
you  are  the  least  curious  person  I  ever  knew.  Why 
don't  you  ask  me  some  question  about  this  sudden 
marriage  ?  By  Jove,  I  really  wish  you  would  !  It 
would  help  me." 

"  Well,  then,  in  two  words,  why  did  you  marry  ? 
You,  a  contented  bachelor,  living  in  Europe  like  a 
prince  and  enjoying  the  smiles  of  every  beauty  in  the 
capital ;  why,  indeed,  did  you  pick  up  your  traps,  rush 
home  and  in  less  than  a  month  after  arriving,  marry 
this  young  woman  whom  you  had  never  seen  ?  I  never 
was  so  thunderstruck  in  my  life  as  I  was  when,  on 
getting  across,  your  laconic  telegram  was  handed  me. 
'  Come  and  see  me  married,'  it  said  !  Two  months  ago 
you  were  in  Paris." 

"  Very  true,"  replied  Fielding  quietly.  "  It  is  a  short 
story.  My  uncle  Ralfe,  for  whom  I  was  named,  was  an 
eccentric  old  gentleman.  He  married  a  wife  whom  he 
sincerely  loved.  She  died  very  soon  after  their  mar 
riage.  He  was  faithful  to  her  memory.  I  was  his  only 
nephew.  He  adopted  me  when  I  was  twelve  years  old. 
Helen  was  his  wife's  only  niece.  Some  years  after, 
he*  adopted  her  also.  He  sent  me  to  college,  then  to 
Europe,  as  you  know,  to  study  medicine.  He  educated 
Helen  in  a  Convent  school  until  she  was  eighteen,  when 
he  took  her  home  to  live  with  him.  Meantime  he  had 
amassed  a  great  fortune.  He  built  this  villa  and  his 
residence  in  New  York,  and  had  fairly  begun  to  live 
and  enjoy  himself,  when  he  was  suddenly  taken  ill  with 


HOW  IT  HAPPENED  9 

what  proved  to  be  a  fatal  disease.  When  his  will  was 
opened  after  the  funeral,  it  contained  simply  two  clauses 
and  one  condition.  If  the  condition  was  not  fulfilled, 
the  whole  estate  was  to  pass  to  charitable  institutions." 
Ralfe  paused  and  sighed.  He  then  went  on  slowly. 
"  The  property  was  to  be  equally  divided  between  his 
niece  Helen  Gray  and  his  nephew  Ralfe  Fielding,  on 
condition  that  they  should  marry  before  the  young 
lady  should  attain  her  twenty-first  birthday.  Mean 
time  each  was  to  enjoy  the  income  of  their  respective 
shares.  The  estate  was  in  the  best  possible  condition. 
There  was  not  a  debt  of  twenty  dollars.  It  was  excel 
lently  invested.  There  was  just  one  year  and  seven 
months  in  which  we  were  allowed  our  freedom.  To 
morrow  Miss  Gray  —  I  mean  my  wife  —  will  be  twenty- 
one." 

Guy  puffed  a  long  line  of  smoke  from  his  lips,  and 
ejaculated,  "Hum!" 

"Of  course,"  continued  Ralfe,  "it  would  have  been 
absurd  to  have  given  up  a  million  apiece  !  She  felt 
that  as  well  as  I.  At  least,  her  lawyers  so  informed 
mine.  I  sometimes  think  those  old  fellows  patched 
up  the  match  between  them,"  with  a  half  laugh  ;  "  but, 
at  any  rate,  I  was  unable  to  decide,  and  in  the  only 
communication  I  ever  had  from  her  I  was  given  to 
understand  that,  in  answer  to  my  question,  she  had 
nothing  to  say,  save  that  perhaps  it  would  be  best  to 
settle  it  in  a  personal  interview ;  so  I  packed  up  and 
came.  We  began  awkwardly  enough,  but  as  you  say, 
Guy  (though  I  don't  see  how  you  found  it  out  in  a 
few  hours),  she  was  very  sensible,  and  after  a  month's 
courtship  —  that's  the  proper  word,  isn't  it  ?  —  we  — 
well,  here  we  are,  married,  thoroughly  married  by  rule, 
law  and  bond,  clergyman  and  ring  ! " 

"  A  finely  settled  business  arrangement.     Quite  Pari- 


10  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

sian  !  "  murmured  Guy  in  a  slow,  sarcastic  drawl.  "  Not 
a  vestige  of  love  about  it." 

"  Love  ! "  exclaimed  Fielding,  "  don't  talk  to  me  of 
love.  That's  all  past  with  me  forever." 

"  Is  it  possible  Sybil  Visonti  made  so  deep  an  impres 
sion  upon  you  as  that  ?  "  cried  Guy  in  a  sympathetic  tone. 
"  Did  you  indeed  love  that  strange,  magnetic  woman  ? 
What  charm  did  she  throw  over  you  ?  I  thought  I  was 
hard  hit,  but  I  almost  ceased  to  think  of  her  three  days 
after  I  left  her." 

"  And  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else ! "  exclaimed 
Ralfe,  passionately.  "  I  see  her  before  me,  I  dream  of 
her,  1  still  love  her." 

"  Hush  !  don't  speak  so  loud  —  what  if  Helen  —  but 
she  was  not,  she  can  never  be  worthy  of  your  manly 
love,  Ralfe,"  said  Guy,  as  Ralfe  drew  the  heavy  cur 
tains  closer.  "  She  treated  you  with  shameful  silence. 
Forget  her  ! " 

"  I  cannot." 

"  But  your  wife  !  Helen  ! "  cried  Guy,  getting  up 
a  little  faster  than  was  his  wont.  "  She  !  Is  all  love 
past  with  her  ?  or  all  beginning  ?  What  is  her  feeling 
in  this  matter  ?  Have  you  questioned  her  heart  ?  Or 
is  she  as  cold  as  you  are,  and  as  mercenary,  by  Heaven ! " 

"  Hold  on.  I  don't  think  either  of  us  were  very  mer 
cenary.  We  both  did  our  best  to  get  out  of  it  by  be 
stowing  our  millions  upon  each  other.  But  the  lawyers 
said  '  No/  and  —  well !  it  is  as  you  say,  a  sort  of  French 
marriage ;  but  it  is  said  those  sometimes  turn  out  very 
well  indeed."  And  Ralfe  came  and  put  his  arm  on  Guy's 
shoulder.  "  Look  here,  Guy,"  said  he,  "  Helen  is  as  you 
said,  sensible.  I  told  her  that  she  must  take  me  as 
I  am.  I  said  I  would  always  be  kind,  true,  tender  to 
her.  I  conveyed  the  best  possible  friendship.  I  treated 
her  as  a  gentleman  should.  I  respect  her;  I  may  say 


A  GRACEFUL  ACCEPTANCE  11 

I  honor  her.  She  has  acted  the  part  of  a  most  delicate 
and  refined  lady  in  the  whole  matter.  But  I  really  don't 
think  she  expects  me  to  love  her.  Why  should  she  ?  " 

"  Does  she  love  you  ?  " 

"  Love  me  ? "  repeated  Ealfe  in  a  startled  tone. 
"  Why,  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Love  me  ? 
Why,  no ;  of  course  not.  Why  should  she  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  might,  you  know,  old  fellow.  You  are  not 
such  a  bad  specimen  of  manhood,  and  she  was  in  a  Con 
vent  up  to  eighteen.  For  God's  sake,  Kalfe,"  said  Guy 
very  much  in  earnest  now,  "  I  hope  she  does  not  love 
you.  If  she  does,  Heaven  help  her  !  " 

"  Don't  be  foolish,"  smiled  Ralf e,  incredulously.  "  The 
young  lady  is  this  moment  in  her  room,  planning  some 
new  fichu  or  filagree  with  her  maid.  But  truly  we 
must  let  her  know  that  I  must  leave.  We  must  send 
for  her.  Please  ring  the  bell." 

The  gentlemen  waited  some  little  time  before  Mrs. 
Fielding  made  her  appearance.  She  came  in  with  a 
laughing  remark  about  her  delay.  Guy  thought  he  had 
never  seen  a  more  beautiful  woman.  Her  delicately 
carved  features  were  of  a  marble-like  paleness  to  be  sure, 
but  on  her  cheeks  bright  red  spots  burned  warmly. 
Her  eyes  sparkled  with  some  hidden  excitement.  Dark 
as  night,  large  and  glowing,  they  seemed  to  flood  her 
countenance  with  a  radiance  of  beauty.  Her  long, 
sweeping  dress  of  some  delicate  tissue,  with  a  thousand 
dainty  puffs  and  laces,  displaying  the  gleaming  white 
throat  and  the  snowy  arms,  made  her  appear  so  queenly, 
so  statuesque,  that  even  Ealfe,  whose  artistic  sense 
was  most  exquisitely  sensitive,  could  find  no  flaw  in 
her.  She  turned  to  him  with  a  smile. 

"  You  wished  my  presence  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  in  an  embarrassed  tone.  "  I  have  just 
received  this  telegram,"  placing  it  gently  in  her  hand. 


12  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  I  feel  it  impossible  to  neglect  such  a  desire  in  one  so 
near  our  uncle.  Indeed,"  he  added  deprecatingly,  "I  see 
no  way  but  to  go." 

She  read  it  slowly.  Her  hand  trembled  a  little. 
Guy  noticed  it ;  Ralfe  did  not. 

"Of  course  you  must  go,"  she  finally  replied.  "I 
think  there  is  no  possible  choice  in  such  a  matter.  And 
what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  cheerfully.  "  How  can  I  help 
you  away  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  Ralph,  very  much  relieved,  "  Wilson 
will  do  everything  for  me.  In  fact,  I  have  given  him 
his  orders.  I  am  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you,"  he  added 
kindly,  and  then,  with  the  least  hint  of  forcing  himself, 
he  continued,  "  I  regret  exceedingly  this  inappropriate 
event ;  but  I  shall  only  be  gone  a  week  at  farthest. 
Make  yourself  happy,  and  do  not  for  an  instant  think  of 
me.  Miss  Lulu  will  remain  with  you,  and  Guy  says,  if 
his  society  will  make  up  for  mine"  (with  a  smiling  gri 
mace),  "he  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  stay  until  my 
return." 

"He  is  very  welcome,"  said  his  wife,  cordially.  "No 
doubt  we  shall  manage  to  amuse  ourselves.  By  the  way, 
I  expect  two  good  saddle  horses  down  from  the  farm 
to-morrow  (I  believe  I  did  not  mention  it  to  you,  Ralfe), 
and  Miss  Lulu  and  Mr.  Thorne  can  have  a  canter." 

She  had  not  seated  herself,  and  at  this  moment  Wil 
son  appeared  with  bags  and  traps,  standing  respectfully 
in  the  hallway. 

"  The  carriage  will  be  around  directly,  sir,"  said  he. 

"  Then  I  will  not  wait,  but  bid  you  adieu  now,"  quietly 
said  Mrs.  Fielding.  "  A  pleasant  journey !  And  you, 
Mr.  Thorne,  I  shall  see  you  in  the  morning."  And  with 
a  gracious  bow  and  charming  smile  she  slowly  moved 
up-stairs. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Guy  under  his  breath,  "I  don't 


THE  DEPARTURE  13 

think  there  is  much  to  worry  about  there.     Her  heart  is 
safe  enough." 

"  What  did  I  tell  you,  Guy ! "  remarked  Ealfe  as  she 
disappeared.  But  he  had  followed  that  graceful  figure 
with  a  wistful  eye,  and  while  he  was  bowled  along 
through  the  darkness,  he  thought  of  her  more  than  he 
had  ever  supposed  he  could. 


14  SARDIA;  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER   II. 

AN   UNUSUAL    PROPOSITION. 

"And  yet,  and  yet,"  — 

A  WEEK  had  passed  and  Ealfe  had  returned.  Dinner 
was  over  and  the  two  guests  had  started  away  on  their 
evening  gallop.  "  Do  you  care  to  drive,  Helen  ? "  in 
quired  Kalfe  as  she  watched  them  ride  gayly  off.  "I 
really  feel  a  little  weary  with  to-day's  travel,  and  if  you 
don't  inind,"  — 

"  No  indeed !  and  besides,  I  really  wish  to  have  a  little 
chat  with  you.  I  believe  we  have  not  yet  been  alone  for 
a  moment  since  "  — she  hesitated,  and  then  went  on  softly, 
"since  our  wedding-day."  Ealfe  gathered  himself  to 
gether  with  what  grace  a  man  may  who .  expects  to  be 
thoroughly  bored. 

"  Certainly,"  he  acquiesced,  gently, "  I  shall  be  charmed." 

"What  can  be  in  his  mind,"  thought  Helen,  noticing 
with  a  quick  eye  every  change  in  his  countenance. 

"  You  know,"  said  she  in  an  off-hand  sort  of  way,  so  new 
that  it  rather  startled  Ealfe,  "  You  know  that  any  pre 
tence  of  love  between  you  and  me  would  be  mere  folly, 
and  so,  since  you  have  been  gone,  I  have  been  thinking 
of  a  plan."  She  stopped  to  let  him  take  in  her  full 
meaning.  Ealfe  swung  around  on  his  seat.  She  was 
sitting  on  the  stone  steps  of  the  veranda.  Great  stone 
columns  and  balustrades  covered  with  ivy  and  honey 
suckle  were  her  background;  the  setting  sun  flooded 
the  whole  scene,  and  sent  a  soft,  roseate  glow  over  her 


A  MUTUAL  AGREEMENT  15 

pure,  fair  face.  Her  favorite  costume  of  soft  white, 
rippling  with  laces,  became  her  perfect  figure  as  does  a 
drapery  about  some  old-time  statue.  She  was  the  picture 
of  quiet,  harmonious  loveliness.  Kalfe  was  shocked. 
Could  a  beautiful  woman  like  this  talk  in  such  a  practi 
cal  way  ?  He  longed  to  hear  her  utter  something  less 
harsh.  He  only  said,  "  Indeed  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on  swiftly.  "  Of  course  I  understand 
that  all  sentiment  would  be  a  farce ;  the  only  thing  to  do 
is  to  banish  the  very  idea  of  it.  So,  if  you  please,  let  us 
be  jolly  good  friends,  comrades,  hail  fellows  well  met. 
Surely  we  can  get  along  nicely  in  that  way.  We  need 
not  be  at  all  intimate.  When  we  like,  we  can  talk,  and 
when  we  don't  like,  we  certainly  can  avoid  each  other ! 
As  for  troubling  ourselves  about  each  other  at  all,  I  can 
not  see  the  need.  Thanks  to  your  kindness,  I  am  to 
have  my  own  income,  and  as  old  Judge  Davis  advised, 
we  had  each  better  keep  our  own  accounts.  Then  we 
shall  not  be  annoyed  as  husbands  and  wives  generally 
are,  by  questions  of  money.  You  can  have  your  choice 
of  the  establishments,  and  we  can  live  together  or  apart, 
just  as  we  please,  —  only  we  must  not  give  Mrs.  Grundy 
a  chance  to  gossip." 

Her  manner  was  quite  unlike  anything  he  had  ever 
seen  in  her  before,  but  Kalfe  was  too  much  a  man  of  the 
world  to  show  his  surprise.  Indeed,  he  told  Guy  after 
wards  that  he  had  never  felt  so  relieved  in  his  life. 

He  said  promptly,  "  My  friend,  Helen,  then ! "  and 
shook  hands  pleasantly.  "I  only  object  to  making  a 
choice  of  establishments.  Let  us  occupy  either  as  we 
please,  and  go  up  to  the  farm  when  it  suits  us.  As  you 
say,  we  will  give  Mrs.  Grundy  no  chance  to  talk ;  at  the 
same  time  we  may  each  feel  perfectly  free  so  far  as  honor 
and  courtesy  and  mutual  respect  permit."  He  said  this 
last  with  a  rather  grand  air. 


16  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

"  You  take  for  granted  I  respect  you,  comrade ! "  she 
laughed. 

"Do  you  not  ?  "  he  asked  almost  sternly. 

"I  do  respect  you,  I  may  say  I  honor  you,  sir,"  she 
answered  with  a  haughty  grace,  and  swept  into  the  house. 

As  Ralfe  remained  in  the  twilight,  pondering  his  wife's 
last  words,  they  seemed  strangely  familiar,  yet  he  could 
no£  tell  why.  He  was  of  an  analytical  mind  and  given 
to  silent  consideration  of  even  the  most  trifling  events. 
Educated  with  the  utmost  care,  and  always  free  from 
petty  annoyances  concerning  money,  he  had  developed 
into  a  leisurely  thinking  and  leisurely  acting  man.  In 
tellectually  he  was  serenity  itself.  Emotionally  he  was 
somewhat  impulsive.  He  generally  abandoned  himself  to 
an  easy  repose  verging  on  indolence,  but  which  was  full  of 
a  pent-up  energy  which  only  needed  occasion  to  exert  itself 
with  surprising  power.  He  carried  with  him  an  air  of 
reserve  which  was  softened  by  a  graciousness  which  won, 
while  it  did  not  permit  the  least  familiarity.  His  coun 
tenance  was  what  might  be  designated  as  fine  rather  than 
handsome.  Dark  hair  brushed  back  from  the  high  fore 
head,  eyes  grave  and  quiet,  but  filled  with  a  subtle 
sweetness  of  expression  which  sometimes  flashed  into 
rarest  humor. 

His  mouth  alone  betrayed  the  sensitive,  poetic,  easily 
wounded  and  easily  aroused  temper  of  its  owner.  Under 
the  dark,  silky  mustache,  this  delicate  and  beautifully  cut 
member  trembled  and  smiled  in  defiance  of  Ralfe's  will. 
It  was  well  at  times  that  it  was  nearly  concealed. 

Mr.  Fielding's  manner  was  one  of  thoughtful  courtesy. 
With  rare  delicacy  he  never  trespassed  nor  intruded, 
never  forgot  proprieties,  never  intentionally  annoyed. 
To  women  he  was  deferential ;  to  men,  cordial. 

He  aimed  to  enjoy  life  as  much  as  possible  so  long  as 
he  wronged  no  one  and  deprived  no  one  of  equal  pleasure. 


A  PROJECT  17 

His  ideas  were  based  upon  a  certain  personal  morality 
rather  than  upon  the  customs  of  society.  As  Guy  had 
lovingly  remarked,  he  was  "  not  such  a  bad  specimen  of 
manhood,  you  know." 

He  was  thinking  now  of  a  woman  quite  opposite  in  style 
and  character  to  this  lovely  wife  of  his,  —  "  wife  in  name," 
he  sighed  to  himself.  His  memory  called  up  Sybil  Visonti 
as  a  vision.  What  a  woman  !  How  that  dark,  fascinating 
face,  with  its  eyes  of  velvet  flame,  passionate,  humid, 
glowing,  flashing,  all  in  a  single  quarter  hour,  the  lips  that 
breathed  a  peculiar  music  in  every  tone,  the  arms  that 
seemed  to  always  long  to  embrace,  the  strangely  moving 
hands  which  made  such  subtly  expressive  gestures,  adding 
an  undulating  and  rhythmic  grace  to  every  tender  word, 
rushed  upon  his  sight,  and  even  in  imagination  almost 
blinded  him.  He  shuddered  as  he  stood  in  the  warm 
June  air.  A  chill,  a  sudden  deathly  feeling,  swept  over 
him.  "  What  was  her  wonderful  power  ?  "  he  murmured. 
"  Why  was  I  left  without  an  answer  ?  "  He  went  down 
into  the  garden,  and  paced  a  long  time,  thinking,  thinking. 
He  laughed  a  little  scornfully  at  last.  "  What  a  fool  a 
man  can  make  of  himself !  She  went  without  a  word  to 
answer  my  passionate  declaration.  Yet  how  she  looked 
at  me  that  last  night  when  I  put  her  into  the  carriage ! 
Her  touch  was  like  fire  —  a  caress  of  fire  !  I  must  not 
think  of  her.  I  will  not !  and  yet,  —  and  yet/'  — 

"I  say!"  broke  in  Guy's  voice  on  his  reverie,  "come 
in  here,  Kalfe,  we  want  you." 

"Yes,"  cried  Lulu  Morris,  coming  down  the  path, 
"  come,  Mr.  Fielding,  we  have  a  project.  Don't  you 
love  projects  ?  I  do.  I  think  projects  are  the  nicest 
things  in  the  world,  especially  when  we  don't  know 
what  they  are,  and  none  of  us  do  but  Helen.  It  is  she 
who  has  gotten  it  up.  Isn't  she  nice  ?  " 

Lulu  was  a  real  little  ray  of  sunshine.     Breezy,  jolly 


18  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

little  Lu !  Her  merry  laugh  and  rattling  talk  would 
make  the  dullest  party  gay.  She  "  loved  "  everything, 
from  strawberries  to  flirtations ;  and  every  living  thing, 
from  kittens  and  babies  up  to  the  sternest  old  grand 
father  in  the  world,  loved  Lu. 

"  Helen  is  a  darling,"  she  went  on,  as  they  mounted 
the  steps.  "I  never  saw  a  pony  go  so  in  my  life  as  hers 
did  to-night,  didn't  it,  Mr.  Thome  ?  Isn't  Helen  a  dar 
ling  to  let  me  ride  every  single  night  ?  " 

Ralfe  looked  at  Helen  and  smiled  amiably. 

"All  pretty  women  are  darlings;  but  Helen  —  she  is 
a  comrade,"  and  he  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  A  what  ?  "  said  Lu,  astonished. 

"  I  am  a  comrade.  And  I  mean  to  make  a  loyal  one, 
too.  See  how  I  have  begun.  Ealfe  will  be  pleased  to 
acknowledge  my  immediate  fulfilling  of  duty,  I  am  sure. 
See  this  list  of  people  whom  I  have  invited  to  amuse 
him ! " 

"Is  that  your  project?"  he  asked,  in  a  disappointed 
tone,  while  Guy  looked  pleased,  and  Lulu  went  into 
raptures. 

"  Yes  ;  do  you  not  like  it  ?  I  was  sure  you  would  like 
to  fill  this  great  house  with  people,  so  I  have  invited  the 
ladies,  and  thought  you  and  Mr.  Thome  might  select 
half  a  dozen  agreeable  gentlemen." 

Ealfe  was  again  smiling.  "Ah,  so  kind.  I  shall  be 
delighted.  Guy,"  he  added,  indolently,  "  whom  shall  we 
have?'' 

"  But  you  don't  know  what  ladies  are  coming ! "  ex 
claimed  Lu.  "  You  must  match  them  with  suitable 
partners,  you  know." 

"  Well,  whom  are  we  to  welcome,  Helen  ?  " 

"I  wanted  Jo  Millard,  because  she  is  so  witty,  so  fer 
tile  in  invention,  and  such  a  fine  hand  at  arranging  all 
sorts  of  entertainments;  then  she  is  'dying'  to  come  to 


THE  VISONTI  19 

the  sea,  and  I  know  the  poor  child  needs  a  change. 
Then  I  have  asked  Cecile  Gray,  my  cousin,  a  dear,  good 
girl  with  a  history,  —  a  little  quiet,  but  plays  divinely, 
—  and  Sybil  Visonti." 

"The  Visonti!"  "Sybil  Visonti!"  cried  both  gen 
tlemen  in  a  breath. 

"  What  surprises  you  so  ?  "  said  Helen,  turning  from 
one  to  the  other.  "  Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  do,"  drawled  Guy  in  his  most  indolent 
manner,  coming  to  the  rescue  of  Ralfe.  "  We  have  both 
flirted  our  heads  off  with  her  in  Paris,  and  I  don't  know 
many  fellows  who  haven't." 

Ralfe  flushed  a  dark  red.  His  lip  quivered  beneath 
its  silken  shield.  He  was  silently  angry  with  Guy,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  thanked  him  for  announcing  in 
this  cool  manner  what  must  inevitably  be  known  if  Miss 
Visonti  arrived. 

"  I  think  yo.u  wrong  her,  Guy,"  he  was  about  to  say, 
when  Helen  remarked  with  considerable  spirit,  "  You  do 
Sybil  Visonti  wrong !  I  cannot  believe  that  she  flirts 
with  every  man  she  meets.  She  has  too  much  discrimi 
nation.  I  admit  that  she  enjoys  flirting,  but  her  taste 
is  irreproachable.  She  is  thoroughly  accomplished,  and 
one  of  the  best  bred  women  I  have  ever  met.  Even  as 
a  young  girl  in  the  Convent,  she  was  our  model  for  grace 
of  manner." 

"And  of  morals  also?"  murmured  Guy;  but  the 
query  was  covered  by  Ralfe's  "  Oh  !  That  is  where  you 
knew  her.  Have  you  seen  her  since  she  left  school  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  have  not  seen  her  for  several  years.  She  is 
considerably  older  than  I.  We  correspond  regularly, 
however.  She  writes  letters  which  are  as  fascinating  as 
her  conversation,  and  I  value  them  in  a  literary  way 
more  than  those  of  any  acquaintance  I  have." 

Ralfe  had  almost   uttered,   "  Did  she   ever  mention 


20  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

me  ?  "  when  he  remembered  Helen  had  asked,  in  a  sur 
prised  tone,  if  he  knew  her,  which  convinced  him  that 
Sybil  had  not  been  disloyal,  had  not  paraded  his  love 
before  the  eyes  of  a  schoolgirl  "  intimate."  A  feeling 
of  renewed  faith  and  gratitude  swept  over  him  at  the 
thought. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  may  frankly  say  of  Miss 
Visonti,"  said  Guy,  pleasantly.  "  She  never  says  an 
unkind  or  evil  thing  of  any  one.  If  she  cannot  find 
some  beautiful  quality  to  praise,  she  says  nothing  at  all. 
But  she  seldom  discusses  others  anyway.  I  never  saw 
a  person  whose  whole  conversation  circled  out  like  the 
spokes  of  a  wheel  so,  as  hers  does." 

"  And  what  is  the  hub  ?  "  asked  Lu,  earnestly. 

«  Herself,"  said  Guy. 

"  I  think  we  have  discussed  her  long  enough,"  calmly 
remarked  Helen.  "  That  she  is  a  magnificent  woman 
no  one  can  deny.  Her  beauty,  talent,  birth,  and  wealth 
are  all  in  her  favor.  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  her 
here." 

"  So  shall  I,"  cried  Ealfe,  for  the  instant  forgetting 
policy  or  believing  policy  unnecessary.  "  This  place 
shall  be  made  a  paradise  to  welcome  her." 

As  he  thus  exclaimed,  his  wife  rose  and,  seemingly 
without  motive,  sank  on  an  ottoman  near  his  feet.  A 
shaft  of  moonlight  irradiated  her  countenance.  She 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  sky,  and  seemed  absorbed  in 
thought.  Her  head,  with  its  golden  crown  of  hair,  her 
exquisite  features,  all  saddened  by  a  wistful  droop  of  the 
mouth,  yet  unutterably  lovely,  appealed  to  him  even  in 
the  midst  of  his  speech.  He  gazed  at  her  at  first  criti 
cally,  and  then,  by  some  singular  attraction,  almost 
tenderly. 

"  So  unlike,"  he  thought ;  and  then  again,  but  in  so 
different  a  sense,  "  and  yet,  and  yet  "  — 


GUESTS  21 

As  before,  Guy's  voice  broke  in :  "  What  men  shall 
we  have,  Ralfe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Who  are  back  from  Europe  ?  Is 
Charlie  Vane  at  home  yet  ?  They  say  he  made  one  of 
the  finest  copies  of  '  The  Ascension '  that  an  American 
ever  painted." 

"Yes;  he  came  over  in  the  same  steamer  with  me. 
And  Sardia.  Do  you  know  Sardia  ?  " 

"I  should  think  so," laughed  Ralfe.  "I  was  becalmed 
with  him  ten  days  in  his  yacht,  on  the  Mediterranean, 
and  he  and  I  were  the  first  men  who  stood  on  the  Pyra 
mids  that  year  we  did  the  Nile.  Is  he  over  ?  But  we 
cannot  get  him.  He  is  always  engaged  ten  deep." 

"  I  think  we  can,"  put  in  Guy,  positively.  "  He  told 
me  hardly  any  one  knew  he  was  coming.  We  can  try, 
anyway." 

"  Oh,  do,  do  !  "  cried  Lu.  "I  think  Sardia  is  a  splen 
did  name !  He  has  a  steam  yacht  and  has  done  the 
Pyramids  !  What  a  splendid  conversationalist  he  must 
be  !  I  like  travelled  men  so  much.  They  amuse  me 
without  making  me  amuse  them." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Guy.  "Wouldn't  Sardia  smile  at 
that !  Think  of  setting  the  elegant,  the  irresistible 
Sardia,  the  'grand  seignior'  to  'amusing'  a  little  chick 
like  you  ! " 

"  You  do  it,"  said  Lu ;  "  you  put  yourself  out  to  do  it," 
and  she  pouted  like  a  little  child. 

Helen  awoke  from  her  reverie,  and  laughed  in  so 
musical,  so  bewitching  a  way  that  they  all  joined  in 
together.  "  Little  goose  ! "  she  said  with  the  sweetest 
accent,  "  of  course  he  does !  I  shall  be  glad  to  meet 
Sardia  again,"  she  added.  "I  remember  he  spent  a  few 
days  with  my  uncle  some  years  ago.  I  thought  him  then 
a  kind  of  prince.  He  always  brought  me  a  bunch  of 
violets." 


22  SARDIA:  A   STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  III. 

CONFIDENCES. 

"  A  child  of  our  grandmother  Eve,  a  female  ;  or,  for  thy  more 
sweet  understanding,  a  woman." 

Love's  Labor's  Lost. 

SEVERAL  weeks  had  passed  by.  The  gay  watering-place 
was  in  the  height  of  the  season.  The  drive  was  brilliant 
every  afternoon  with  every  possible  style  of  turnout, 
not  the  least  admired  of  which  was  Mrs.  Fielding's  quiet 
landau.  A  singular  curiosity  had  attached  itself  in  the 
minds  of  "  the  best  people"  to  the  marriage  of  this 
young  couple.  Something  of  the  story  which  Kalfe  had 
told  Guy  had  found  its  way  into  the  current  of  daily 
chatter,  and  had  become  exaggerated  until  it  made  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Fielding  "  the  rage."  Their  "  cottage,"  which 
was  in  fact  a  villa  of  almost  enormous  dimensions,  was 
the  scene  of  all  possible  gayeties  and  the  most  unique 
and  agreeable  affairs.  Filled  with  guests  who  had  been 
selected  with  the  utmost  tact  and  comprehension ;  sur 
rounded  by  grounds  so  extensive  and  so  beautifully 
arranged  that  even  the  English  visitors  could  do  nothing 
but  praise ;  the  sea,  ever  glorious,  in  full  view  and  all 
the  attractions  of  a  fashionable  watering-place  close  at 
hand,  together  with  a  host  and  hostess  whose  first  greet 
ing  put  every  one  at  ease  and  whose  overflowing  and 
thoughtful  hospitality  made  every  moment  more  enchant 
ing,  the  place  seemed  indeed  a  Paradise.  All  gave  them 
selves  up  to  unalloyed  enjoyment,  and,  as  Lu  demurely 


A   FASCINATING  WOMAN  23 

remarked  in  a  sudden  silence  one  evening,  "We  are  all 
positively  seething  in  flirtation,  aren't  we  ? "  There 
seemed  an  exception  to  the  rule.  Ralfe  certainly  could 
not  be  accused  of  the  slightest  tendency  to  while  away 
the  summer  hours  in  idle  dalliance.  His  horses,  his 
various  little  trips,  the  clubs,  the  hotels,  and  some  mys 
terious  writing  which  he  regularly  pursued  in  the  library 
every  day,  seemed  to  occupy  his  whole  attention.  A 
model  host,  he  still  held  himself  aloof  from  the  least 
attempt  to  amuse  himself  with  the  ladies.  He  was  quite 
as  courteous  to  one  as  to  the  other.  "  An  awfully  im 
partial  creature,"  said  Lulu,  discontentedly. 

"  But  the  Visonti  has  not  arrived,"  answered  Guy  in  a 
confidential  tone  to  this  little  observation.  "We  shall 
then  see  what  we  shall  see  ! " 

"  Was  he  dreadfully  '  hard  hit,'  as  you  men  say  ?  " 
curiously  questioned  Lu. 

"I  don't  know,  dear,"  for  things  had  gone  on  quite 
fast  between  these  two  and  they  were  sometimes  very 
quietly,  '  dear  '  and  '  darling '  to  each  other.  "  I  don't 
know,  but  I  rather  think  he  was  worse  than  the  rest  of 
us.  /  adored  her,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  Guy !  "  reproachfully.  Then  with  a  soft  little 
twinkle,  "  But  you  adore  me  noiv,  don't  you,  Guy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  awfully  !  who  could  help  it  ?  " 

"  Is  she  so  fascinating  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear,  she  is  a  fascinating  woman.  I  know,  pet, 
when  I  say  that,  no  idea  of  jealousy  will  ever  enter  your 
lovely  head.  You  are  my  heart,  — but  yes,  a  fascinating, 
dangerous,  subtle  woman.  Her  whole  aim  in  life  is  to 
have  her  own  will.  The  end  is  what  she  means  to  gain, 
no  matter  how.  She  will  twist,  turn,  tease,  hang,  act  a 
thousand  different  moods  from  farce  to  tragedy  to  accom 
plish  the  least  object  on  which  she  has  set  her  mind. 
If  she  cannot  move  by  persuasion,  she  will  make  a  mar- 


24  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

tyr  of  herself,  weep,  mourn  and  then  smile,  turn  herself 
into  a  saint,  and  so  wrap  herself  in  an  atmosphere  of 
'sweetness  and  light,'  that  you  are  led  to  bend  the 
knee  in  adoration.  She  manages  to  throw  a  glamour  over 
her  lightest  action,  and  beware,  Lu !  She  wins  women 
as  easily  as  she  does  men.  I  have  seen  her  table  loaded 
with  gifts  from  women.  She  possesses  a  strange  unde- 
finable  power  to  which  all  must,  more  or  less,  yield." 

"  Helen  loves  her,"  said  Lu. 

"Yes,  even  our  beautiful  Helen  seems  to  have  the 
same  thrall  over  her ;  but  still,  Lu  dear,  at  times  when 
we  have  mentioned  her  coming,  I  have  seen  a  singular 
expression  flit  over  her  countenance  as  if  she  had  some 
secret  dislike  even  to  her  name." 

"She  turns  pale  sometimes  when  I  ask  her  about 
Miss  Visonti.  I  wonder  if  she  fears  her  ?  " 

"  Why  should  she  ? "  asked  Guy  in  a  surprised 
tone." 

"  If  Helen  were  in  love  with  "Ralfe,  she  might  indeed 
be  afraid,  not,"  —  he  added  hastily,  "  that  the  Visonti 
can  compare  with  Helen  as  being  a  true,  beautiful, 
noble  woman,  but  she  has  arts  that  no  innocent  woman 
can  know ;  subtle,  entrancing  ways  which  only  come 
from  a  combination  of  experience  and  unscrupulous- 
ness." 

"  How  utterly  different  to  Helen  !  She  is  so  good 
as  well  as  so  intellectual !  " 

"  She  is  a  woman  who  can  express  fine  thought  finely. 
Her  soul  is  of  a  more  delicate  cast  than  many." 

"  She  always  makes  me  think  of  that  peculiar  flower 
we  find  in  the  dim  old  woods,  the  Indian  Pipe.  The 
perfume  is  spicy,  the  texture  exquisite,  the  color  pure, 
spotless  white." 

"  The  Visonti  is  the  deadly  night-shade,  or  the  scarlet 
poppy  !  I  never  think  of  her  without  remembering  what 


WHERE  LOVE  IS  SENT  25 

Charlie  Vane  said  of  her  the  first  time  he  saw  her. 
You  know  how  clairvoyant,  how  keen-sighted  Charlie  is  ! 
How  he  seems  to  pierce  one  through  and  through,  and 
read  one's  very  soul !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lu ;  and  then  irrelevantly,  "  I  think  him 
the  most  of  a  saint  I  ever  saw." 

"  So  .do  I,"  echoed  Guy,  heartily.  "  Well,  I  asked  him 
one  evening  after  his  first  presentation  to  the  Visonti, 
'  What  is  she,  anyway,  Charlie  ?  Can  you  make  her 
out  ? '  —  '  She  is  a  vampire  ! '  he  answered.  '  She  eats 
one  up  body  and  soul.'  And  he  meant  it ! " 

"  How  do  you  know  Helen  is  not  in  love  with  Ralfe  ?  " 
suddenly  queried  Lu,  with  an  air  of  just  hitting  upon  a 
hidden  truth. 

• 

"  Would  she  invite  that  woman  here  and  persist  in 
praising  her  ?  Would  she  throw  those  two  together,  as 
they  must  be  in  this  house,  if  she  cared  one  iota  for 
Ralfe's  love?" 

"  Of  course  she  does  not  know  Ralfe  really  cares  for 
her !  I  don't  believe  she  knew  Ralfe  was  acquainted 
with  Miss  Visonti  when  she  proposed  to  invite  her. 
Besides,  she  has  not  seen  her  for  years,  and  may  not 
know  she  is  a  dangerous  flirt.  She  defended  her  with 
great  spirit  the  other  night.  You  need  not  be  so  posi 
tive.  You  men  think  you  see  everything,  but  you  are 
blind  as  bats,  as  bats,  I  say.  I  don't  know  why  they 
should  not  love  each  other,  they  are  a  glorious  couple." 

"Yes,  but  they  don't.  Love  goes  where  it  is 
sent." 

"  You  were  sent  with  it  to  me,  were  you  not,  Guy  ?  " 
she  said,  innocently.  "  Did  you  wish  to  come  ?  " 

"  I  found  you  waiting,"  he  laughed,  provokingly ; 
"waiting  and  ready." 

"  I  confess,"  meekly,  "  and  now  love  is  going  where  it 
is  sent  again,"  solemnly. 


26  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  Where  ?  Where  ?  "  cried  Guy  eagerly,  as  her 
bewitching  little  face  turned  down  the  garden  walk. 

"  To  be  amused  by  Sardia,"  she  sang  saucily,  and  off 
she  went,  leaving  Guy  to  finish  his  cigar,  with  just  the 
least  touch  of  jealousy  in  his  heart,  for  Lu  was  a  coquette 
and  never  let  him  feel  too  secure. 


COMRADES  27 


CHAPTER  IV. 

COMRADES. 

"  By  the  pricking  of  my  thumbs, 
Something  wicked  this  way  comes." 

Macbeth. 

THE  advent  of  the  Visonti  was  quite  in  character. 
Ralfe  and  Helen,  as  it  chanced,  were  sitting  alone. 
They  did  not  expect  their  guest  until  six  o'clock.  It 
was  about  four  in  the  afternoon.  The  house  was  de 
serted  by  their  guests.  The  ladies  were  driving,  the 
gentlemen  were  variously  engaged.  Ralfe  had  seated 
himself  in  the  library,  and  was  reading  some  of  his  own 
manuscript.  The  room  was  dark,  cool,  and  inviting. 
Roses  clambered  about  the  old-fashioned,  diamond-paned 
windows,  and  nodded  their  perfumed  heads  at  the  big 
bowl  of  blossoms  in  the  great  fireplace  ;  the  sun,  soft 
ened  by  a  glow  of  color  in  a  window  high  up  in  the  wall, 
threw  a  circle  of  rich  hues  on  the  mossy  floor.  Books, 
books,  books,  how  many,  how  rare,  how  intelligently 
arranged  they  were !  and  peeping  out  from  curtains 
whose  rich  color  and  texture  made  a  fitting  background 
were  bronzes,  marbles,  and  an  easel  on  which  rested  the 
only  picture  in  the  room  —  a  portrait  of  Helen.  Ralfe 
looked  up  from  his  paper  to  meet  the  eyes  of  both  por 
trait  and  original.  "  Stand  still !  "  said  he,  in  a  tone  too 
courteous  to  be  imperious.  He  gazed  at  one  face  and 
then  the  other  with  a  critical  expression.  "  Huntley  did 
well,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  satisfied  way,  then  again 
glanced  interestedly  at  his  sheet.  Helen  stepped  aside 


28  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

a  little,  and  smiling  gravely,  with  a  half-timid  air 
approached  him. 

"  May  I  come  in,  comrade  ?  " 

The  least  shadow,  almost  undefinable,  crept  across  his 
face  for  an  instant,  then  he  rose  with  his  usual  indolent 
grace,  and  taking  her  hand,  led  her  as  he  might  have 
done  an  honored  visitor  to  the  easiest  chair,  brought  a 
foot-stool,  and  to  her  surprise  gently  lifted  one  foot  and 
then  the  other  on  to  this  pretty  resting-place.  A  per 
fumed  fan  lay  on  his  desk.  He  handed  it  to  her,  and 
then,  leaning  over  her  chair,  asked  pleasantly,  — 

"  Are  you  answered  ?  " 

"  How  graceful  you  are  !  "  in  a  monotone.  "  I  could 
half  believe  you  were  foreign.  Does  living  in  Europe 
impart  this  delicacy  of  manner  ?  " 

"  I  admit  that  Americans  are  not  so  particular  about 
trifles  as  foreigners,  especially  Italian  and  French  gen 
tlemen  ;  but  I  hardly  think  true  courtesy  is  due  to  asso 
ciation  or  race.  It  is  proverbial  that  America  is  the 
country  in  which  a  lady  may  travel  alone  from  Maine  to 
San  "Francisco  and  only  meet  with  perfect  deference  all 
the  way." 

"  I  did  not  express  myself  well,"  said  Helen,  humbly. 
"  I  meant  a  certain  grace,  almost  homage,  which  I  find 
in  the  manner  of  Europeans,  and  Americans  who  have 
long  been  resident  in  foreign  lands." 

"  Sardia  is  an  excellent  specimen  of  that  class  of  men. 
I  believe  ladies  consider  him  to  be  irresistible." 

"  He  is  my  idea  of  Bayard,  without  fear  and  without 
reproach,"  murmured  Helen,  dreamily.  She  sank  back 
in  her  chair,  and  behind  the  great  fan  which  she  swung 
with  languid  grace  to  and  fro  Ralfe  could  see  a  slow, 
bright  flush  steal  over  her  face  and  a  deep,  warm  light 
into  her  eyes.  For  an  instant  he  felt  almost  hatred  of 
Sardia.  He  thought  in  a  flash,  "  She  is  my  wife,  and  she 
loves  Sardia ! " 


A   TETE   A  TETE  29 

"  Sardia  is  a  very  good  fellow,"  he  assented  in  his 
usual  calm  way.  "  By  the  way,  you  are  engaged  to  ride 
with  him  this  evening,  and  after  that  a  look  in  at  the 
hop  at  the  Arnolds'  —  who  is  to  take  care  of  Miss 
Visonti  ?  " 

"  Why,  you,  of  course ! "  starting  up  in  surprise. 
"Are  you  going  to  preserve  the  supreme  indifference  of 
your  manner  even  to  her  ?  I  thought  nothing  would 
please  you  better  than  to  renew  that  pretty  Parisian 
affair  Guy  mentioned.  Will  it  not  ?  " 

This  every-day  way  of  putting  his  great  love  for 
Sybil  Visonti  seemed  to  Ralfe  almost  an  insult.  "  That 
pretty  Parisian  affair !  "  How  impossible  it  seemed  that 
any  one  should  dare  so  to  touch  upon  his  passion.  Yet 
what  could  he  say  ?  Could  he  own  that  the  "  affair " 
was  so  important  to  him  that  his  very  soul  seemed  rent 
when  his  bouquet  and  his  declaration  of  love  were  re 
turned,  the  latter  rudely  torn  open  ?  Could  he  appeal 
to  Helen's  sympathy  or  display  anger  at  her  innocently 
gay  phrase  ?  He  took  refuge  in  his  favorite  sentence 
when  thoroughly  perplexed  or  annoyed. 

"  I  shall  be  charmed." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  intrude  upon  you,"  went  on  Helen 
in  a  moment,  "  and  I  do  not  expect  confidences.  But 
are  we  not  comrades?  Should  we  not  try  to  be  inter 
ested  in  each  other  ?  "  She  paused  and  looked  at  him 
in  so  sweet,  so  entreating  a  way  that  he  could  but  feel 
her  winsomeness  and  be  touched  by  her  beauty. 

"  What  can  she  wish  me  to  tell  her  ? "  thought  he. 
"  Does  she  really  think  I'  shall  give  her  a  history  of 
what  she  calls  '  that  pretty  affair  ?  '  —  I  need  not  try  to 
be  interested  in  you.  I  am  so,  always,"  he  remarked, 
quietly  evading  her. 

"  But  will  you  not  tell  me  ?  "  she  persisted  ;  "  may  I 
not  know,"  — 


30  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  About  Miss  Visouti  ?  Why,  there  is  little  to  tell. 
I"  — 

"Oh,  Ralfe  !  do  you  think  me  so  rude,  so  unwomanly 
as  that  ?  "  cried  she,  rising  and  bending  towards  him  with 
blushes  chasing  over  her  beautiful  cheeks  and  flushing 
even  the  snowy  throat.  "I  do  not  wish  to  know  any 
thing  of  Sybil  Visonti.  I  am  not  in  the  least  curious  as 
to  your  past;  it  is  the  present,"  she  murmured,  her  voice 
growing  mellow  and  sweet ;  "  it  is  something  nobler  and 
higher,  I  believe,  than  a  passing  flirtation.  It  is  your 
work,  Ralfe.  This." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  the  pile  of  manuscript  which  he 
had  been  correcting.  She  touched  it  reverently,  and 
looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  pride  and  interest. 

"  They  are  poems,"  said  Ralfe,  briefly.  "  I  have  always 
written  more  or  less.  I  am  collecting  and  arranging  them 
with  an  idea  that  some  time  I  may  publish  them." 

"I  am  so  proud." 

"  Are  you,  really  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly.  "  Are  you  glad 
I  am  not  always  a  mere  idler  ?  Do  you  take  interest  in 
such  things  ?  I  have  never  yet  found  a  woman  with 
whom  I  could  sit  down  and  really  converse  on  poetry. 
They  all  admire  it,  they  all  quote  it,  they  all  '  do '  a  little 
of  it  themselves  ;  but  none  criticize  it  in  a  masterly  way. 
No  one  tears  what  I  do  to  pieces ! " 

"  Is  that  your  idea  of  a  good  critic  ?  "  Helen  laughed, 
and  catching  up  the  first  sheet,  she  playfully  tore  it 
straight  across. 

"  Why,  Helen  ! "  cried  he,  catching  her  hand  and  look 
ing  at  her  in  amazement,  "  what  a  strange  thing  for  you 
to  do ! " 

"  Oh,  there's  mischief  in  me,"  she  laughed  defiantly, 
and  then  demurely  handing  him  the  pieces  said,  "  It  was 
blank,  you  see." 

Ralfe  looked  pleased.     His  wife  had  never  been  so  gay 


AN  INTERRUPTION  31 

or  so  free  with  him  before.  He  liked  this  little  show  of 
fun,  without  questioning  the  feeling. 

"  Read  one,  will  you  ?  "  she  pleaded. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  new  and  agreeable  sense  of 
companionship,  "  I  will  with  pleasure." 

Helen  resumed  her  seat,  and  turned  to  him  a  face  so 
full  of  pleased  expectation  that  he  felt  a  strange  intellec 
tual  exhilaration.  To  a  man  of  his  temperament  appre 
ciation  is  the  sweetest  thing  in  life.  Without  it  the 
whole  being  droops  and  fades  ;  with  it  the  germs  of 
beautiful  deeds  spring  into  leaf,  flower,  and  fruitage  with 
wonderful  celerity.  He  took  up  a  sheet  lying  apart  from 
the  rest,  and  had  just  opened  his  lips  to  announce  the 
title,  glancing  at  his  beautiful  auditor  with  a  new  delight, 
when  suddenly,  without  a  sound,  a  tall,  dark  figure  stood 
before  them  and  startled  both,  as  if  she  had  been  a  mes 
senger  from  L'Inferno.  For  an  instant  no  one  spoke,  and 
the  figure  remained  motionless  as  a  statue,  when  her 
low,  clear,  peculiar  voice  uttered,  "  I  interrupt.  I  am  so 
sorry." 

" Sybil!  Miss  Visonti,"  cried  host  and  hostess  in  a 
breath. 

"I  startled  you!  Ah!  I  am  used  to  it.  I  came  a 
train  earlier.  I  am  weary,"  and  sinking  into  the  prof 
fered  chair,  she  drew  Helen  down  beside  her,  and  covered 
her  with  swift,  passionate  caresses. 

Ralfe  shuddered  in  spite  of  himself.  He  felt  a  sick 
ening  sensation  when  he  saw  Helen  return  those  kisses, 
yet,  in  an  instant  he  was  jealous  of  her  right.  The  mere 
hand  touch  of  the  Visonti  had  given  him  a  thrill  which 
ran  like  electricity  through  his  veins. 


32  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    PRINCESS. 

"  But  who  is  this  ?    What  thing  of  sea  or  land  ? 
Female  of  sex  it  seems, 
That  so  bedeck' d,  ornate,  and  gay 
Comes  this  way  sailing, 
Like  a  stately  ship 
Of  Tarsus,  bound  for  th'  isles 
Of  Javan  or  Gadire, 
With  all  her  bravery  on! " 

Samson  Agonistes. 

IN  quite  a  different  part  of  the  town  was  situated  an 
unpretentious  little  cottage,  surrounded  by  a  neat,  old- 
fashioned  garden,  and  only  modernized  on  the  outside 
by  a  very  wide  piazza  and  some  bright  awnings,  which 
shaded  every  window,  making  the  house  appear  like  a 
cluster  of  striped  petunias,  or  hollyhocks,  growing  out  of 
a  green  embankment.  Here  one  morning  Sardia  found 
himself  in  the  cosey  drawing-room  of  his  friend  Madame 
Menshikoff.  It  Avas  a  singular  room  indeed,  and  was  a 
startling  transition  from  the  simple  American  gate  and 
macadamized  pathway,  which  led  to  the  entrance  of  the 
cottage.  The  doors  were  hung  with  draperies  of  the 
finest  India  shawls,  and  the  walls  were  faced  with  the 
richest  stamped  leather.  Low  couches  were  built  along 
the  sides  of  the  room,  and  were  puffed  into  the  easiest 
possible  curves  of  deep  crimson  plush,  while  occasional 
pillows  of  Indian  embroidery  on  velvet  were  carelessly 
piled  together  or  thrown  in  a  heap  on  the  floor.  Rugs 


HER  SALON  33 

of  the  whole  skins  of  leopards  and  the  tiger,  with  the 
heads  and  jaws  formidably  life-like,  were  stretched  in 
every  available  spot  over  the  foreign  carpet,  while  won 
derful  Japanese  jugs  and  Chinese  bowls,  unutterably 
horrible  monstrosities  in  ceramics,  and  aesthetically  ugly 
bronzes  gave  one  a  sense  of  being  in  a  curio's  sacred 
salon.  An  alligator  was  hung  over  an  archway,  and  on 
Madame's  table  stood  a  small  stuffed  baboon,  dressed  in 
a  tall  hat,  a  "dicky,"  and  a  ministerial  white  tie.  Gods 
in  gold,  in  wood,  in  ivory ;  busts  in  marble,  small  figures 
in  wrought  silver,  rare  cabinets  and  tiny  paintings ;  every 
possible  implement  for  smoking,  some  curious  weapons, 
and  a  large  silver  urn  hissing  over  a  spirit-lamp  made  up 
the  paraphernalia  of  this  odd  apartment. 

The  morning  sunshine  streamed  through  a  very  small 
window,  evidently  made  of  late  in  the  eastern  wall.  It 
was  circular  in  shape,  rimmed  on  the  inside  with  an  asp 
carved  in  cedar,  which  was  swallowing  its  own  tail ;  and  it 
was  filled  with  a  plate  of  glass  as  thick  and  clear  as  those 
in  the  staterooms  of  an  ocean  steamer.  All  other  windows 
being  darkened,  this  single  round  ray  made  a  curious 
illumination,  especially  when  it  glanced  upon  a  huge  ball 
of  crystal,  which  Madame  Menshikoff  was  indolently  roll 
ing  about  the  floor.  A  very  small  dark  dwarf  was  pla 
cing  the  ball  over  and  over  again  within  reach  of  her  foot, 
so  that  she  might  kick  it  about  without  rising  from  the 
luxurious  divan  on  which  she  was  reclining.  Dressed  in 
some  strange,  gorgeous  costume  of  Eastern  manufacture, 
with  a  small  gold-hilted  poniard  in  his  twisted  sash,  he 
looked  like  a  tireless  little  imp.  Sardia  had  assumed 
a  position  of  utmost  ease,  and  was  smoking  a  Turkish 
water-pipe  with  a  grace  which  indicated  long  usage. 

"  Satan  !  "  exclaimed  Madame  in  a  deep,  musical  basso 
and  with  an  unmistakably  foreign  accent.  "Cease  ! 
Get  mv  cigarettes."  The  little  fellow  whose  name 


34  SARDIA:  A  SToRY   OF  LOVE 

indeed  seemed  appropriate  presented  a  bowl  of  fine 
tobacco,  rice  paper,  and  wax  matches.  Madame  took 
them  and  frowned.  "  Go,"  said  she.  An  eastern  salaam 
at  the  doorway  was  unheeded  by  both  Sardia  and 
the  Princess. 

"  Do  you  never  allow  him  to  speak  ? "  asked  he, 
lazily. 

"Ptsh  !  his  tongue  is  slit." 

"  Indeed !  "  still  lazily.     "  Did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Had  it  not  been  done  I  should  not  have  chosen  him. 
It  is  inconvenient  to  have  slaves  who  speak." 

"Slaves!  Hush,  Madame.  This  is  America.  Slaves? 
Why,  no,  of  course  not !  An  adopted  son  only  !  " 

Madame  laughed. 

"  Not  so  bad,  Sardia,"  said  she,  "  not  so  bad.  Come  ! 
talk !  Whom  do  you  know  here  ?  Who  am  I  to  know  ? 
What  amusement  do  you  provide  for  me  ?  Any  fine 
women  ?  Men,  faugh  !  What  women,  eh  ?  " 

"Perhaps  I  intend  you  to  amuse  them." 

"  Oh !  I  ?  Yes-s-s.  I  shall  amuse  them.  But  I 
study,  I  study,  I  study  them,  my  great  lord."  And  she 
puffed  round  and  oval  rings  from  her  mouth. 

"  How  long  do  you  remain  in  this  country  now, 
Princess  ?  " 

"Ah,  let  me  see!  Two,  three,  four  months  and  four 
days  and  four  hours !  That  ends  my  probation.  I  am 
then  a  citizen  of  America.  No  more  passports,  no  more 
recalls  to  St.  Petersburg,  no  more  persecution,  political 
or  religious  !  I  am  then  no  longer  cosmopolitan !  I 
answer  no  more  in  French,  in  Italian,  in  Hungarian. 
I  swear  no  more  in  Russian.  Ah,  my  native  fine  Russia, 
my  hated,  wide,  horrible  Russia,  then  I  shall  be  no 
longer  a  Russian,  I  shall  be  an  American,  so  ! " 

And  with  a  tempestuous  grace  she  rose  and  flung  her 
arms  wide  in  defiance.  She  was  dressed  in  a  loose, 


RIVALS  35 

flowing  costume  of  black,  lined  with  vivid  scarlet.  It 
resembled  the  Grecian  himation,  and  was  exquisitely 
expressive  of  her  angry  mood.  Her  arms  gleamed 
through  a  silk  gauze  network  which  covered  them  to 
the  wrist  and  fitted  like  a  glove.  Her  feet  were  in 
loose  Eastern  sandals. 

"Do  you  forfeit  your  title,  Princess?"  inquired  her 
guest,  watching  her  gestures  with  a  softly  amused 
smile. 

"Speak  not  of  it.  I  renounce  it.  La,  let's  smoke." 
And  suddenly  dropping  upon  her  couch,  she  hid  her 
face  with  a  gray  cloud.  When  it  emerged  it  was 
serenity  itself. 

Observing  this  Sardia  said  quietly,  "There  are  two 
women.  I  will  bring  them  to  you,  and  I  would  like  you 
to  go  to  them." 

"I  never  go,"  said  Madame  briefly. 

"I  know,  my  royal  mistress.  But  perhaps  you  will 
feel  inclined,  who  knows  ?  " 

"  Well  ?  "  impatiently. 

"They  are  quite  opposite  in  style.  One  is  Ameri 
can,  the  other  Italian.  The  American  is  a  blonde,  the 
Italian  "  - 

"  Yes,  yes,  dark  as  Erebus  of  course.     Well  ?  " 

"They  are"  —  he  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  said 
in  a  low,  significant  tone,  "  rivals." 

"  A  married  man  ?  " 

"  Always  suspicious,  Madame,"  Sardia  laughed  indul 
gently.  "  Yes,  you  are  right.  The  Italian  loves  the 
husband  of  the  American,  and  the  American  "  — 

"  Loves  you  ?  " 

"No,"  said  he  gravely,  growing  a  shade  paler,  "she 
loves  her  husband." 

"Ah,  I  see.  It  is  plain.  You  wish  the  Italian  to 
succeed.  You  wish  her  to  win  the  husband  away.  You 


36  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

wish  a  clear  field.  You  are  a  rival !  You  will  win  the 
blonde  American,  ah,  yes,  my  fine,  my  fine  lord." 

"Madame,  you  mistake,"  said  Sardia  slowly,  rising 
and  standing  before  her  and  looking  down  with  a  rare, 
deep  smile.  "  You  mistake.  I  desire  the  wife  to  win. 
I  desire  the  Italian  to  be  beaten.  I  wish  the  American 
to  be  happy."  His  voice  grew  exquisitely  sad  and 
tender. 

"  Come  here.  Show  me  your  eyes.  There !  Sit 
down  again.  You  love  this  American,  and  you  love 
her  so  well  that  you  will  abnegate  yourself  and  help 
her  to  win  whom  she  loves.  Sardia,  you  are  noble,  true  ! 
I  desire  to  adore  your  spirit."  And  she  bowed  until 
she  touched  the  hem  of  his  garment.  Tears  were  in 
her  light  blue  eyes  when  she  raised  her  head,  and  her 
large  expressive  mouth  was  slightly  trembling. 

"  0  friend,  0  companion  !  "  she  cried.  "  Come  back 
to  India  !  Come  to  India  with  me,  and  find  repose ! 
Come  away  from  this  cold,  new,  crude  land  where  every 
one  pushes  and  hurries,  where  money  is  the  soul  and 
show  the  heart !  where  the  cities  are  poisonous,  putrid 
with  the  immoral  exhalation  of  so  large  a  crowd  of 
mixed  people.  Come  where  there  is  no  mental  malaria 
and  the  astral  body  is  free ;  where  the  soul  may  medi 
tate  until  it  becomes  one  with  and  absorbed  in  Nirvana ! 
0  India,  land  of  my  love  and  my  adoption  !  win  this 
great  heart  to  be  one  with  thy  greatness  !  " 

She  clasped  her  hands,  and  turned  fervently  to  the 
east. 

Silence  unbroken  prevailed  for  a  moment,  then,  "  The 
time  is  not  yet,"  said  Sardia,  in  a  low  tone.  "Is  there 
no  greater  mission  than  seeking  the  repose  of  one's  own 
soul  ?  May  I  not  in  this  very  place  find  a  higher  work  ? 
Let  me  make  this  good,  sweet  woman  happy.  Perhaps 
then  I  will  go." 


MADAME'S  ENGLISH  37 

Madame  again  became  serene. 

"Bring  both,"  said  she.  "Bring  a  party.  I  will  give 
them  Russian  tea  and  Indian  religion,  judiciously  mixed. 
Oh  !  I  will  shock  them,  and  I  will  study  them  !  I  will 
chill  them  with  a  whiff  of  Siberia,  and  melt  them  with 
the  sun  of  Bombay  !  I  shall  laugh  in  my  —  what  do 
you  say  ?  —  laugh  in  my  slipper  !  " 

Sardia  ha-ha'd  out  loud. 

"  It  is  '  in  one's  sleeve,' "  he  said.  "  Ah,  Madame, 
you  know  English  remarkably  well,  but  not  the  phrases 
yet !  You  are  correct,  —  bookish,  in  fact.  There  is 
hardly  a  scholar  in  the  country  who  can  equal  your 
elegance  of  speech  —  when  you  choose."  He  smiled 
pleasantly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  she  answered  impatiently ;  "  but 
your  accent.  I  cannot  get  it.  Yet  I  know  phrases ! 
I  know  many  good  phrases.  Listen.  '  You  are  a  brick.' 
1  You  are  boss.'  '  You  are  a  bully  boy.'  There  !  " 

Sardia  actually  roared. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Madame,  where  did  you  pick  up 
that  slang  ?  It  is  too  ridiculous." 

"I  studied,  sir.  I  study  everything.  Thus  do  we 
advance  towards  perfection.  I  heard  the  Americans 
themselves  in  the  street.  Do  not  tell  me  that  I  do 
not  know  phrases.  I  know  I  can  say  '  Damn.'  " 

She  was  perfectly  grave  and  very  much  in  earnest. 
Sardia  laughed  and  laughed. 

"  You  are  incorrigible,  Madame  !  But  the  morning  is 
going,  and  I  am  to  take  a  sea-bath.  You  will  not  bathe  ? 
It  is  not  so  very  cold  !  And  when  shall  I  bring  some 
people  to  amuse  you  ?  When  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  Ah,  any  time,  any  evening.  I  have  a  few  friends  here. 
My  pupil  is  here  !  I  have  my  little  levee  as  I  did  in 
New  York.  There  will  always  be  tea  and  cigarettes  and 
always  talk,  talk."  She  called  "  Satan  !  "  and  began  to 


38  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

search  with  intense  impatience  among  papers,  bric-a-brac, 
books,  ash-holders,  pens,  pencils,  and  a  thousand  trifles 
on  her  table.  "  Oh,  I  am  dying,  dying !  My  last  rice 
paper  is  gone.  Satan  !  Imp !  Evil  one  !  Come,  come  !  I 
am  dying.  I  have  no  cigarette  !  I  am  dead !  " 

Sardia  left  her  in  this  whirl  of  heart-rending  emotion, 
merely  saying  to  the  dwarf  in  Hindostanee,  "Bring  the 
death-robe,  Sirrah ! " 


BEGINNING  OF   THE  BATTLE  39 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    BATTLE    BEGINS. 

"  Imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown." 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

DINNER  at  "  Spray  View,"  as  Helen  had  named  the 
villa,  was  particularly  gay  that  evening.  The  weather 
which  had  been  intolerably  warm  had  yielded  to  a  brisk 
sea-breeze,  and  every  one  seemed  exhilarated  in  conse 
quence.  Sardia  was  thrilled  to  the  soul  with  the  beauty 
of  Helen  as  she  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  end  of  the 
table  before  taking  her  seat.  The  rich  glitter  of  crystal, 
silver,  flowers,  and  mellow  light  about  her ;  the  back 
ground  of  deep  plum  hangings  and  the  delicate  costumes 
of  her  guests  but  added  to  that  unspeakable  grace  and  love^ 
liness  which  was  as  if  an  aiigel  soul  had  blossomed  into 
human  form.  As  he  glanced  from  her  to  her  husband, 
who  was  moodily  seeking  the  Visonti  with  jealous  eyes, 
he  felt  a  sudden  indignation  burn  in  his  heart  with  such 
ardor  that  for  a  moment  he  would  have  been  pleased  to 
cry  out  "  Fool ! "  and  strike  his  host  and  friend  with  a 
blow  of  punishment  and  awakening.  He  seated  Sybil, 
however,  with  his  accustomed  graceful  suavity,  and  en 
grossed  her  in  a  conversation  which  won  her  keenest 
attention.  "  The  world  is  gradually  approaching  real 
ism,"  he  was  saying,  "  but  so  slowly  and  by  such  transi 
tional  stages  that  people  do  not  realize  it.  A  great  many 
things  that  once  would  shock  polite  society  are  now 


40  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

allowed,  not  as  in  the  Court  of  Charles  II.,  from  a  spirit 
of  sensualism  and  of  bad  morals,  but  from  an  appreciation 
of  false  shame  and  a  nearness  to  Nature's  naked 
truths." 

"  What  are  bad  morals  ?  "  asked  the  Visonti  in  a  low, 
curiously  confidential  tone,  lifting  a  glass  of  Sauterne 
in  a  slow  undulating  curve  to  her  lips.  "  What  are  bad 
morals  ?  "  she  repeated,  while  her  dark  eyes  sought  his 
own  with  a  significant  meaning. 

"  Abnormalism,"  said  he  pointedly.  "  Depravity  for 
its  own  sake ;  methodical  sensualism ;  in  women,  the 
gratification  of  vanity  through  lying  illusions ;  in  men, 
the  subjection  of  his  infinite  powers  to  the  winning  the 
bliss  of  a  moment,  or  the  bending  them  to  the  service  of 
an  ignoble  ambition." 

"  The  bliss  of  a  single  moment  may  be  worth  a  life 
time  ! "  she  murmured,  and  drooped  the  long  silken 
lashes  over  her  marvellous  eyes.  "  I  do  not  believe  in 
keeping  one  earthly  law,"  she  added,  looking  straight 
before  her,  with  a  hard,  determined  line  growing  about 
her  voluptuous  mouth. 

"  There  are  divine  laws,"  Sardia  returned  coldly. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  defiantly. 

"If  you  do  not,"  he  answered  quietly,  "let  me  take 
you,  sometime,  to  a  certain  quarter  of  New  York,  where 
you  will  see  the  results  of  breaking  them.  I  can  show 
you  such  sights  as  will  make  you  admit  that  the  physical 
laws  are  divine  ;  divine  in  their  inevitable,  inexorable, 
eternal  punishments,  if  nothing  more.  And  I  fancy 
the  moral  and  the  intellectual  laws  are  based  on  the 
physical." 

Sybil  slightly  shuddered.  She  glanced  about  the  ele 
gant  apartment ;  saw  the  smiling,  happy  guests,  heard 
the  soft  intoning  of  their  varied  conversation.  She  sank 
more  comfortably  into  her  chair,  sipped  her  wine  luxu- 


WOUNDED  41 

riously,  and  turning  softly  to  Sardia,  murmured, 
"  Society  demands  convention.  It  pays  !  " 

He  turned  away  from  her  for  a  moment  to  hide  the 
infinite  disgust  which  he  felt.  Why  should  he  argue 
with  her  ?  Why  should  he  try  to  lift  this  woman  from 
her  self-desired  laxness  ?  "  Did  you  ever  experience  for 
a  second,"  he  finally  said,  "  the  serene,  sublime  glow,  the 
adornment,  the  refinement,  the  enchantment  of  fancy, 
which  for  just  one  moment  endowed  in  your  mind  some 
being  with  perfection  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  replied  breathlessly,  her  bosom  heav 
ing  with  a  sudden  ecstasy  of  reminiscence. 

"  And  did  you  not  feel  pure,  good,  exalted  ?  " 

A  soft,  womanly  look  transformed  her  face  into  a  finer 
beauty. 

"  True,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Shall  you  so  endow  any  human  being  again  ?  "  He 
looked  at  her  with  eyes  filled  with  a  certain  earnest  pity. 

"  Never  !  "  she  exclaimed  scornfully. 

"  So  it  is,  you  see.  There  are  divine  laws.  The  deli 
cacy,  the  purity,  the  honor,  the  glory  of  divine  perfec 
tions  which  you  believed  in,  were  stripped  away.  By 
not  believing  in  keeping  one  earthly  law,  the  law  of  your 
soul  was  cheated  !  In  one  transient  emotion  all  vanished, 
and  what  remains  but  satiated  appetite  and  palled 
senses?  " 

"  Hatred,"  said  she.  "  A  grand,  general  hatred.  A 
hate  of  myself,  of  you,  of  all  the  world  !  " 

"  And  you  ask  me  what  are  bad  morals  ! "  with  a  cyni 
cal  smile.  "  Would  it  not  be  wise  to  ask  yourself  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  know  of  me  ?  "  asked  Sybil  suddenly, 
with  a  new  suspicion  darkening  her  face.  "  How  do 
you  judge  that  life  palls  on  me  ?  Are  we  not  strangers  ? 
Did  you  ever  see  me  before  we  met  here  ?  " 

"  World-weary  women  may  preserve  their  loveliness 


42  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

intact;  their  grace  unaltered,  their  fascinations  unchanged 
for  years,  but  they  cannot  conceal  the  inevitable  conse 
quences  of  experience.  Miss  Yisonti,  a  little  child  might 
read  you." 

She  turned  a  yellow,  ashy  gray.  Every  vestige  of 
color  left  her  lips.  Her  very  eyes  seemed  to  fade  into 
horrified  paleness.  Under  the  table  one  hand  clinched 
itself  so  tightly  that  a  tiny  drop  of  blood  stood  in  the 
palm  when  she  took  up  the  tapering  stem  of  her  glass. 

"Allow me,"  said  he, courteously  presenting  a  napkin. 
"  You  have  wounded  yourself." 

"With  a  world  of  hatred  in  her  low,  expressive  voice, 
she  answered,  — 

"  The  edge  of  the  glass  is  broken." 

"But  it  still  holds  excellent  wine,"  said  he  lightly. 

At  this  moment,  Lu,  whose  cheeks  were  like  roses  and 
whose  eyes  were  like  stars,  broke  out  impatiently  with 
an  annoyed  exclamation.  She  had  hurried  down  at  the 
last  moment  to  be  surprised  by  finding  Charlie  Vane 
waiting  to  escort  her  to  her  chair.  The  chat  seemed  to 
be  a  little  less  general  than  usual.  Guy  was  in  earnest 
conversation  with  Helen.  In  his  frank,  open  way  he 
felt  an  affectionate  interest  in  all  her  projects  and  ideas, 
and  she  often  found  him  a  help  and  encouragement  in 
many  of  the  perplexities  natural  to  her  position.  Beside 
him  was  seated  a  gentleman  whom  she  had  never  before 
seen.  Presented  as  Signor  Zante,  his  venerable  appear 
ance  and  distinguished  air  of  somewhat  old-school  polite 
ness  instantly  won  her  confidence.  But  as  she  noted 
this  complete  absorption  in  each  other  that  seemed  to 
prevail  around  the  table,  she  exclaimed,  breaking  into 
one  of  her  own  sweet  rollicking  ripples,  — 

"  A  real  country  picnic  !  Everybody  in  pairs !  or, 
a  Noah's  ark,  two  by  two  ! " 

There  was  a  general  start  at  this  sally,  and  Guy,  with  a 


HASHISH  43 

comprehensive  glance  at  the  gentlemen  aud  a  sudden 
memory  for  Shakespeare,  quoted, — 

"  '  Masters,  spread  yourselves  ! ' ' 

"  Yes,  tell  us  some  way  to  amuse  ourselves.  0  dear ! " 
she  moaned,  with  a  long,  comical  sigh.  "  I'm  tired  of 
doing  things  over  and  over ;  let's  get  up  something  new. 
I  have  waltzed,  boated,  driven,  ridden  horseback,  lis 
tened  to  those  tiresome  lectures  at  the  Casino,  eaten  car 
amels,  read  novels,  and  flirted  until  I  am  absolutely  worn 
out  for  something  to  do.  Sir  Sardia,  can't  you  suggest 
something  besides  sailing,  lawn  tennis,  and  archery  ?  Bil 
liards  and  pool  are  antique,  and  I  don't  suppose  it  would 
do  to  gamble,  would  it  ? "  dubiously.  "  I  caught  my 
maid  with  seven  lottery  tickets  in  her  apron  pocket  this 
morning,  so  it  would  be  '  low-tone '  to  suggest  those. 
What  shall  we  do  this  evening,  Helen  ?  Say,  Mr.  Field 
ing  —  somebody,  tell  us  what  to  do  ! " 

"  I  suggest  hashish,"  said  Charlie  Vane. 

Every  one  looked  surprised.  "  Why,  Charlie,"  ex 
claimed  Guy,  "  do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?  Did 
you  ever  eat  any  ?  " 

Charlie  looked  annoyed.  "Why  should  I  not  know 
about  it  as  well  as  any  one  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Well,  do  you  ?  "  cried  Lulu,  greatly  excited.  "  Tell 
us  about  it !  Is  it  like  what  is  described  in  '  Monte 
Christo  ?  '  Oh,  let's  have  a  hashish  party  !  Wouldn't 
it  be  glorious  !  " 

"While  I  was  in  Paris  half  a  dozen  of  us  students 
made  up  a  party  to  test  the  effects  of  this  drug.  Three 
were  to  take  it,  and  three  were  to  take  care  of  them.  I 
was  one  of  those  who  took  it,  and  I  assure  you  I  have 
never  regretted  it." 

"  What  was  it  like  ?  Can  you  remember  your  sensa 
tions  ?  Was  it  horrible  or  delicious  ?  "  was  chorused 
eagerly. 


44  SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  Ah,  there  I  am  at  fault,"  «aid  Charlie  disconsolately. 
'•  It  is  a  confused  jumble  of  delights,  fears,  surprises, 
agonies,  and  ecstasies,  in  my  mind." 

"  I  have  eaten  it  not  oace,  but  many  times,"  interposed 
Signor  Zante.  "  I  presume  Mr.  Vane  would  remember 
more  distinctly  the  second  time."  He  spoke  with  a 
strong  accent,  but  with  perfect  understanding  of  the 
language. 

"  Will  you  not  describe  it  ?  "  said  Helen,  turning  to 
her  new  guest  with  a  singular  graciousness  of  manner. 

"  Madame  honors  me,"  he  said,  rising  from  his  chair, 
and  bowing  with  reverential  homage. 

As  he  continued  standing  for  an  instant,  Ralfe  also 
rose  and  said  inquiringly,  "  Are  we  finished  ?  Shall  we 
go  with  the  ladies,  or  shall  we  all  remain  here  ?  " 

Every  one  rose  with  alacrity.  "  Quite  finished."  "  To 
the  drawing-room,  by  all  means,"  they  assented. 

Helen  ordered  the  coffee  to  be  served  in  the  smoking- 
room,  and,  putting  her  arm  about  Lu,  said,  "  Gentle 
men,  you  shall  not  be  deprived  of  your  cigars.  We  will 
be  Bohemians,  and  join  you  in  the  smoking-room."  It 
was  a  luxuriously  furnished  apartment,  with  a  large 
skylight  of  tinted  glass  in  the  ceiling.  This  was  open, 
and  the  numerous  windows,  reaching  to  the  floor,  gave  it 
almost  the  semblance  of  an  arbor.  Soft  couches  and 
lounging  chairs  were  scattered  about,  and  these  were 
soon  occupied  by  the  interested  group  who  listened  to 
the  quaint  accented  syllables  of  Signor  Zante. 

"  If  you  know  how  to  use  it,  it  is  not  dangerous  and 
leaves  no  bad  effect.  The  first  idea  you  have  is  that  you 
are  dying.  Xo  one  could  convince  you  of  the  contrary. 
This  passes  away,  and  you  then  begin  to  have  the  most 
remarkable  consciousness  of  the  duality  of  your  being. 
Indeed,  I  think  there  may  be  given  to  a  person  no  more 
striking  or  convincing  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the 


GORGEOUS  SCENES  45 

soul  than  a  trial  with  hashish.  You  know  you  have  a 
body,  but  you  do  not  feel  that  you  are  in  it.  You  are 
conscious  of  all  your  acts  in  the  body,  but  yourself 
appears  to  be  disinthralled,  separate,  and  individual. 
All  things  look  at  great  distances.  It  is  as  if  you  were 
looking  through  the  large  end  of  an  opera-glass.  If  it  is 
night,  and  you  look  above  and  see  the  moon,  you  feel 
that  you  have  watched  the  grand  procession  of  the  ages 
go  by  while  she  passes  through  a  tiny  cloud.  Everything 
seems  infinitely  stretched  out.  Sounds  seem  years  in 
arriving.  You  can  see  words  come  solidly  from  the 
mouths  of  persons  speaking.  They  float  towards  you 
like  a  ribbon  waving  and  waving  for  years  before  you 
catch  the  sound,  and  yet  you  get  it  and  answer  it  in  the 
ordinary  length  of  time,  and  none  could  perceive  that 
anything  was  the  matter  with  you." 

"  How  remarkable  !  How  wonderful !  Dumas  de 
scribes  everything  as  assuming  beautiful  forms  and 
colors,"  remarked  some  one. 

"  Yes,  the  skies  appear  living  sapphires  ;  grass,  emer 
alds  ;  every  glitter  of  sunlight,  diamonds.  All  things 
become  superb,  endowed  with  new  colors,  magnificence 
of  texture  and  loveliness  of  contour,  or  they  are  grotesque 
and  comical,  or  as  horrifying  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive. 
Whatever  it  may  be,  it  is  wonderfully  exaggerated.  In 
deed,"  he  added,  smiling  a  little  amusedly,  "  when  I  have 
listened  to  some  of  the  tales  of  fishermen  and  sports 
men  in  this  country,  I  have  often  made  up  my  mind  that 
they  were  told  under  the  influence." 

Every  one  laughed  at  this  little  hit,  while  Guy  lazily 
murmured,  "  He  knows  our  weak  points,  Ralfe."  For 
Ealfe  had  gravely  declared  that  morning  that  when  fish 
ing  down  in  Maine,  he  had  drawn  in  one  hundred  and 
two  mackerel  in  thirty  minutes,  over  which  he  had  been 
very  much  chaffed. 


46  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  If  you  really  seat  yourself  in  an  omnibus,"  con 
tinued  Signer  Zante,  "you  believe  you  are  flying  at  a 
most  fearful  rate  of  speed." 

"  Impossible  !     That  is  really  too  much  !"  laughed  Lu. 

"  You  fancy  you  are  tearing  through  dense  crowds  of 
elegant  equipages,"  serenely  pursued  the  signer,  "  drivers 
and  footmen  in  embroidered  liveries,  jewelled  harnesses, 
velvet  robes,  prancing  steeds,  rare  women  —  everything 
that  a  vivid  imagination  can  conjure  up,  always  taking 
the  real  object  in  view  for  a  basis  on  which  to  build. 
There  is  nothing  that  fairyland  can  boast  which  this  drug 
will  not  produce  for  your  entertainment ;  and  the  best 
of  it  all  is  that  you  can  almost  invariably  distinctly  re 
member  the  experience  afterwards  and  enjoy  it  over  and 
over  again." 

"  How  much  do  you  take  ?  What  is  it  like  ?  "  asked 
Lulu,  excitedly.  "  Can  we  get  it  this  side  of  Xew  York, 
do  you  suppose  ?  "  appealing  to  Ralfe,  who  had  listened 
to  this  narration  with  considerable  interest. 

"  I  fear  not,"  said  he  ;  "  but  we  can  try.  It  is  a  dark 
greenish  paste,  and  comes  prepared  in  porcelain  boxes, 
I  think." 

"  I  have  some,"  said  Sardia  quietly.  "  Who  wishes  to 
try  it  ?  " 

"  Sybil  will,  won't  you  ?  "  cried  Lulu,  at  the  same  time 
aching  to  be  invited  herself. 

Ralfe  bent  over  Sybil  for  the  first  time  that  evening, 
and  said  in  a  low,  passionate  whisper,  "  Will  you  oblige 
me  ?  " 

She  returned  the  glance  with  one  which  burned  like  a 
smouldering  fire.  Something  subtly  magnetic  seemed  to 
draw  him  to  her,  heart  to  heart.  It  was  fortunate  that 
the  chatter  of  the  others  hid  the  intense  longing  of  his 
voice,  as  he  almost  caressed  her  with  the  word  "  Darling ! " 
She  was  lying  back  in  a  long  movable  chair,  and  was  the 


A  SLIGHT  DEFEAT  47 

picture  of  sinuous,  flowing,  voluptuous  abandon.  The 
only  counteracting  element  of  the  effect  was  her  dress, 
which  was  of  sombre  black  lace  and  satin  ;  her  fine  arms 
and  bust  only  lightly  covered  with  the  meshes  of  woven 
jet,  which  gleamed  and  sparkled  from  the  tip  of  her  satin 
boot  to  the  crown  of  her  ebon  locks.  She  was  about  to 
answer,  "  Yes  ! "  in  a  voice  as  meaningful  as  his  own, 
when  Helen  touched  Ralfe  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  "  Are 
you  willing  I  should  try  it  ?  " 

Her  fair  sweet  face  looked  at  him  with  a  certain  defer 
ential  trust,  a  confidence  which  stung  his  conscience  as 
nothing  else  at  that  moment  could  have  done.  He 
answered  her  with  more  gentleness  than  usual,  "  Why, 
Helen,  does  it  depend  on  me  ?  Am  I  willing  ?  Surely, 
you  will  do  as  you  please."  A  shadow  rested  on  her 
face  as  she  turned  away.  He  followed  her  and  said,  "  I 
assure  you  there  is  nothing  harmful  in  it.  You  will 
probably  only  be  a  little  exhilarated." 

"  But,  if  I  should,"  —  she  hesitated,  looking  into  his 
face  with  the  first  look  of  dependence  upon  him  that  she 
had  ever  shown.  It  touched  his  manly  sense  of  protec 
tion  to  the  quick. 

" Fear  nothing,"  said  he ;  "I  will  guard  you."  And 
as  they  entered  the  group  who  were  gathered  about 
Sardia,  who  had  brought  from  his  room  a  box  of  little 
pellets  covered  with  capsules,  he  forgot  for  a  moment 
the  beautiful  woman,  who,  still  reclining  in  an  attitude 
of  luxurious  ease,  was  biting  her  scarlet  lips  with  rage. 


48  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER   VII. 

WHICH    WROTE   IT  ? 

"  I  have  an  exposition  of  sleep  come  upon  me." 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

SARDIA  approached  the  Visonti  with  his  most  gracious 
air.  It  was  impossible  to  resist  that  sweet  imperious- 
ness  of  manner,  which  he  assumed  when  he  chose. 
The  irrevocable  will  behind  the  fastidious  indolence ; 
the  unswerving  purpose,  hidden  by  the  careless  cyni 
cism  ;  the  supreme  patience  which  lay  beneath  the 
elegant  exterior  of  his  courtly  presence,  could  make 
themselves  felt  and  obeyed  by  the  simple  raising  of  his 
golden  eyebrows,  the  velvet  pressure  of  his  white,  relent 
less  hand. 

The  contrast  between  the  reclining  woman  and  the 
man  who  bent  smilingly  over  her  was  almost  startling. 
She,  dark,  dark  even  to  the  shading  of  the  little  hands, 
the  curves  of  the  neck,  the  rounded  contours  of  the  ears 
and  well-shaped  nostrils ;  dark  with  a  clear,  rich,  tropic 
darkness,  through  which  the  thick  blood  of  a  Southern 
climate  ran  riotously ;  the  visible  exponent  of  emotion 
in  all  its  passionate  luxuriance,  in  all  its  deadly  unscru- 
pulousness  ;  —  he  fair,  calm,  and  stately,  the  tawny  mane 
covering  his  massive  head  in  heavy  matted  curls,  cropped 
ruthlessly  short ;  the  steel-blue  eyes  cool,  unfaltering, 
unabashed,  indicative  of  a  reposeful  intellectuality,  a 
rigid  self-discipline,  and  a  rare  severity  of  honor. 

His  voice  was  very  softly  distinct  as  he  said,  "Miss 


SIGNOR  ZANTE  CONVERSES  49 

Visonti  will  take  this.  Allow  me."  And  as  the  scarlet 
lips  opened  to  receive  it,  he  dropped  the  little  pellet  into 
her  mouth.  "Pleasant  dreams  !"  said  he.  Then  hand 
ing  one  to  Balfe,  he  said  laughingly,  "  Here  is  a  pearl  of 
price  for  the  modern  Helen."  And  left  her  husband  to 
do  the  pretty  duty  which  he  would  have  given  a  year  of 
his  life  to  have  performed. 

"  And  mine !  "  cried  Lulu.  "  Am  I  not  to  have  one  ? 
Are  not  the  gentlemen  to  take  any  ?  " 

"Please  don't,"  whispered  Guy  anxiously.  "You  are 
so  excitable,  pet,  and  —  please  don't,  for  my  sake ! " 
pleadingly. 

"  I  want  to  ! "  she  said,  stamping  her  tiny  foot  like  a 
spoiled  child. 

"But  you  Avill  not  know  how  the  others  act  if  you 
do,"  he  said  slyly.  "  I  should  think  you  had  rather 
watch  them,  the  first  time." 

"  Why,  I  should,  come  to  think  of  it,"  she  answered 
good-humoredly.  "  I  really  think  it  would  be  better 
fun." 

"  It  would  be  useless  for  me  to  take  it,"  said  Signor 
Zante,  on  Kalfe's  invitation,  "  I  have  taken  it  so  much." 
And  the  others  seemed  for  various  reasons  equally  dis 
inclined. 

"  Are  we  to  remain  breathless  with  suspense,  and  sing 
hymns  and  the  '  Sweet  by  and  by,'  as  they  do  at  spirit 
ual  seances  ?  "  whispered  Lulu  in  an  awed  manner,  as  a 
silence  for  a  moment  fell  on  the  little  company.  Her 
eyes  were  as  round  as  saucers,  and  her  pretty  baby-mouth 
tremulous  with  mock-dread.  Every  one  laughed  and 
chaffed  her  until  she  sought  refuge  behind  Helen's 
shoulder. 

"  There  will  be  no  effect  for  some  time,"  said  Signor 
Zante.  "  It  will  be  wisest  to  pay  no  attention  to  the 
ladies."  And  with  a  smile  he  turned  to  his  hostess  and 
began  to  leisurely  converse. 


50  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF   LOYE 

"  You  said  you  were  a  pupil,"  said  she ;  ll  but  I  did 
not  catch  the  idea  of  what  art.  Shall  I  intrude  if  I 
inquire  ?  Sir  Sardia  has  frequently  mentioned  your  name 
in  connection  with  the  Princess  Menshikoff.  What  a 
remarkable  writer  she  is  !  Can  it  be  true  that  she  is  so 
young  ?  " 

"  Madame  must  pardon  me,"  he  replied  with  a  smile ; 
"  but  she  seems  to  ask  so  many  little  questions  !  She  is 
from  New  England,  I  fancy." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  returned  Helen  with  genuine  amuse 
ment.  "I  am  a  Yankee  born  and  bred!  That  is  the 
secret  of  the  questioning." 

'•Certainly,  I  shall  name  you  the  art  with  pleasure. 
It  is  the  divine  art  of  reaching  Nirvana.  I  am  a  pupil 
of  the  Princess  Menshikoff  in  the  principles  of  the 
Buddhistic  religion.  I  seek  to  become  an  adept.  I  must 
smile,  however,  when  you  ask  if  my  master  be  young. 
She  is  more  than  seventy  years  old.  Why,  Madame,  I 
am  sixty  myself." 

"But  Sardia  says  she  is  vivacious,  youthful,  gay, 
impulsive  !  He  describes  her  as  a  woman  of  thirty  or 
thirty-five,"  exclaimed  Helen  in  astonishment. 

"  She  certainly  appears  no  older  than  that,"  said  Signor 
Zante;  "yet  I  believe  her  statement  nevertheless.  But 
you  must  see  her  ! " 

"  Is  she  in  this  country  ?  "  asked  Helen  in  surprise. 
"  Sir  Sardia  has  not  mentioned  it." 

"No,  I  presume  not.  For  the  present  she  desired 
repose.  But,  yes ;  she  is  here  in  this  very  place, 
although  she  has  been  established  but  a  few  days.  She 
will  spend  the  season  if  she  is  not  too  much  besieged ! " 
and  he  smiled  as  if  in  reminiscence. 

Helen  began  to  look'about  her  in  a  singular  manner. 
Her  beautiful  eyes  looked  more  radiant,  her  lips  took  on 
a  soft  entranced  smile.  Her  body  assumed  a  pose  so 


THE  VISONTI  DREAMS  51 

eager,  yet  so  subdued  in  its  eagerness  that  she  seemed 
like  a  bird  on  the  spray,  just  balancing  itself  for  flight. 
"What  delicious  music,"  she  murmured ;  "you  hear  it 
of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  assented  Signor  Zante,  who  under 
stood  her  delusion. 

"  Why,  it  is  your  voice  ! "  she  exclaimed  delightedly. 
"And  now  all  the  voices;  they  are  seraphic.  What  a 
chorus !  How  divine  the  organ  tones,  how  exquisitely 
mellow  the  horns  ! " 

She  seemed  wrapped  in  an  ecstasy  of  sound,  her 
whole  being  suffused  with  a  flood  of  music. 

Ilalfe,  who  had  been  anxiously  awaiting  some  signs 
of  the  potent  drug  in  Miss  Visonti,  now  turned  to  his 
wife  and  remained  motionless  with  genuine  admiration. 
"  Sappho  listening  to  the  sea,"  he  murmured  to  himself. 
The  others  suddenly  realizing  that  Helen  was  affected, 
looked  at  her  with  love,  wonder  and  delight.  Sardia 
felt  so  deep,  so  terrible  an  agony  in  his  heart  that  he 
became  suddenly  faint  and  leaned  against  the  window. 
"Never  to  be  mine,  never  to  be  mine,"  his  mind  kept 
idly  going  round  and  round.  "  Dear,  true  angel-woman, 
and  never  to  be  mine ! "  He  roused  himself  by  an 
intense  effort  of  will,  thinking,  "I  must  be  brave." 
"  And  Miss  Visonti  ?  "  he  asked,  directing  the  attention 
of  all  but  Ealf e  to  the  other  "  patient." 

She  was  evidently  sound  asleep.  Her  sleep  grew 
deeper  even  as  they  looked.  Her  countenance  assumed 
a  new  expression.  All  the  glow,  the  enthusiasm,  the 
glamour  with  which  she  enchanted  her  adorers  faded 
out.  A  cold,  hard,  malicious  sneer  tightened  the  upper 
lip ;  the  under  lip  hung  loosely  down  and  rolled  outward 
with  so  animal  a  look  that  Lulu  in  innocent  disgust 
turned  away  with  a  shudder.  She  sought  Helen,  and 
Ealfe  followed  the  others  who  gazed  at  the  Visonti 
with  varying  emotions. 


52  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously,  regardless  of  the 
tenderness  of  the  accent  in  which  he  said  it.  Stepping 
close  to  the  chair  he  looked  squarely  in  the  face  the 
woman  who  enchained  him.  "  My  God  !  "  he  said. 

Guy  broke  the  embarrassing  silence  with  his  hearty 
laugh.  "  Well,"  he  cried,  "  it  is  pleasant  dreams  indeed 
with  her,  Sardia  !  How  differently  hashish  affects 
people  !  What  a  pity  it  did  not  awaken  her  to  the 
height  of  improvisation  !  Don't  you  remember,  Ealfe, 
that  evening  in  Paris  when  she  improvised  so  beauti 
fully  ?  She  has  the  true  Italian  talent,"  turning  to  the 
others  Avho  were  occupied  in  watching  first  one  and 
then  the  other,  and  commenting  on  the  possibilities  of 
the  thus  vivified  imagination  ;  "  I  may  call  such  a  song 
as  she  sang  a  production  of  genius  !  Don't  you  remem 
ber  it,  Ealfe  ?  How  did  it  go  ?  " 

Ralfe  said  slowly,  "  Of  course  I  remember  it.  I  could 
never  forget  so  exquisite  a  thing.  She  sat  at  the  piano 
and  laughingly  declared  that  she  was  an  improvvisatrice. 
We  urged  her  to  favor  us,  and  after  some  demur,  with 
a  very  little  thought  she  sang  this  :  — 

"  Oh,  life  is  such  a  little  part 
To  the  great  love  within  my  heart; 
For  free  as  air  my  spirit  seems, 
If  she  but  visit  me  in  dreams. 
Time  rules  not  and  old  Death  is  weak, 
When  I  can  hear  my  dear  one  speak; "  — 

"Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Helen,  coming  forward  and 
joining  him.  "  '  And  blue  and  deep  as  are  the  skies.' 
Yes,  I  wrote  it  when  I  was  in  the  Convent.  Come,  I 
will  sing  it  to  you.  I  have  rny  old  book  yet."  With 
a  step  as  light  as  air  and  a  smile  as  one  inspired,  she 
led  the  way  into  the  drawing-room,  and  with  very  little 
trouble,  hunting  among  her  music-books,  she  found  a 
little  volume  of  manuscript  music.  Hurriedly  running 


HELEN'S  SONG  53 

over  the  pages  she  exclaimed  like  a  pleased  child,  "Here 
it  is  ! "  and  immediately  striking  a  few  rich  chords, 
sang  in  a  clear  resonant  contralto :  — 

"  Oh,  life  is  such  a  little  part 
To  the  great  love  within  my  heart; 
For  free  as  air  my  spirit  seems, 
If  she  hut  visit  me  in  dreams  ! 
Time  rules  not  and  old  Death  is  weak, 
When  I  can  hear  my  dear  one  speak; 
And  blue  and  deep  as  are  the  skies 
They  cannot  match  my  darling's  eyes; 
Laughter  and  tears  are  little  worth  ;  — 
Or  blows  the  wind  from  south  or  north, 
Or  goeth  friend,  or  cometh  foe, 
When  my  own  true  Love  loves  me  so. 

Then  sorrow  welcome!  joy  pass  by! 
For  these  no  care  nor  thought  have  I ! 
When  in  the  garden  walks  my  maid 
I  know  not  if  'tis  sun  or  shade. 
And  if  she  turns  and  leans  to  me  ;  — 
Or  if  her  rosebud  mouth  I  see, 
Or  if  her  little  hand  I  press, 
Or  feel  the  motion  of  her  dress, 
Or  looking  deep  into  her  soul 
My  image  makes  of  joy  the  whole,  — 
To  highest  Heaven  I  would  not  go, 
When  thus  my  true  Love  loves  me  so  ! " 

No  one  had  dreamed  of  the  depth  and  sweetness  of 
Helen's  nature  until  she  had  finished  her  song.  There 
was  a  hush  of  genuine  emotion  pervading  every  heart. 
Her  whole  beautiful  soul  with  its  capacity  for  love 
seemed  opened  to  their  view.  They  seemed  to  them 
selves  to  be  trespassing  upon  some  sacred  thing,  too 
delicate  and  pure  for  such  exposure. 

"  It  appears  that  Miss  Visonti  did  not  improvise  in 
Paris,"  remarked  Sardia  in  a  dry,  cynical  voice ;  "  it  was 
your  wife,  Ralfe,  who  was  her  inspiration." 


54  SAEDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Ralfe's  natural  dignity  and  reserve  now  stood  him  in 
good  stead.  He  resorted  to  his  favorite  phrase,  '•'  I  am 
charmed." 

Helen  had  dropped  her  head  on  the  music-rack  of  the 
piano  and  her  eyes  had  assumed  a  far-away  expression 
as  if  she  were  weary.  Signor  Zante  suggested  that  she 
would  soon  be  asleep  and  perhaps  it  would  be  wise  for 
her  to  retire.  Ealfe  approached  her  and  said  gently, 
"  Will  you  sleep  now  ?  Let  me  take  you  to  your  room." 

She  aroused  herself,  smiled  at  him  brightly,  but  looked 
at  Sardia  and  said,  "No,  I  prefer  he  should  take  me," 
pointing  to  him  in  a  pretty,  pettish  manner.  "  His  face 
is  brighter  than  yours.  It  is  golden.  It  has  an  aureola 
about  it,"  and  going  to  him,  she  confidingly  took  his 
arm. 

All  laughed  at  Ralph's  discomfiture.  Signor  Zante 
lightly  touched  Sardia's  curls.  "A  lucky  dog  to  have 
this  nimbus,"  said  he. 

They  started  into  the  broad  hall  and  up  the  stairs, 
all  following  and  watching  Helen  curiously,  with  still 
a  certain  awe  upon  them.  The  light  pressure  of  her 
form  as  she  slightly  leaned  against  him  made  Sardia 
tremble.  Her  door  which  was  at  the  head  of  the  stair 
case  was  opened  by  a  maid.  He  gave  Helen  into  her 
charge  saying,  "Your  mistress  is  not  quite  well,  and 
needs  especial  care."  Giving  some  brief  directions  he 
turned  to  go,  when  Helen  caught  his  hands  in  her  own, 
and  glanced  at  him  with  a  look  of  admiration. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  !  "  she  said  in  a  soft  whisper. 

"  Good-night,"  he  answered  gently,  as  he  released 
his  hands.  But  as  he  went  slowly  down-stairs,  he  was 
very  pale.  Arriving  in  the  smoking-room  he  found 
every  one  in  consternation.  Sybil  Visonti  was  gone. 


SYBIL'S  LITTLE  DRAMA  55 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 

AN     ENEMY. 

"She  comes  unlocked  for." 

Pope's  Temple  of  Fame. 

As  the  guests  had  passed  into  the  drawing-room, 
one  had  inadvertently  hit  Miss  Visonti  a  soft  blow- 
on  the  cheek  with  the  drapery  of  her  sleeve.  It  awak 
ened  Sybil,  who  remained  perfectly  quiet  and  in 
deed,  for  a  few  moments,  only  half-conscious,  while  a 
strange,  dull  pain  throbbed  through  her  temples.  She 
roused  herself,  however,  as  the  laughing  voices  came 
floating  to  her  from  beyond.  She  sat  up.  All  was  still 
in  the  little  smoking-room,  silent  and  deserted.  The 
lights  which  had  been  turned  down,  mingled  with  the 
brilliant  moon-rays  streaming  in  the  broad,  low  windows  ; 
a  soft  haze  of  smoke  from  the  cigars  hovered  near  the 
ceiling  —  all  the  place  was  familiar,  yet  all  seemed 
strange.  "  What  a  dream  !  "  she  whispered  with  a  little 
shudder. 

At  this  moment  a  noiseless  servant  appeared  with  the 
tray  of  coffee,  and  the  tiny  musical  tinkle  of  the  china 
and  silver  called  her  back  to  reality. 

"  Give  me  some,"  she  ordered,  somewhat  eagerly. 
"Give  it  black  with  no  sugar." 

"  Milk  ?  "  said  the  well-trained  domestic  with  a  slight 
shade  of  surprise  in  his  respectful  voice. 

"Milk?     No!     Am  I  a  child?" 

"You  are  no  babe,  miss,"  acquiesced  the  man  in  his 


56  SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

mind,  but  his  outward  gravity  was  unruffled.  He  was 
about  to  retire  when  Miss  Visonti  turned  to  him,  with 
an  imperious  air,  holding  out  her  cup. 

"  Put  a  tablespoon  of  cognac  in  this,"  said  she. 

James  silently  departed  and  returned  with  a  decanter 
sparkling  like  a  jewel.  She  took  it  in  one  dark,  dimpled 
hand  and  poured  into  the  little  cup,  half  full  of  coffee, 
until  it  touched  the  brim. 

"  Go,  now,"  said  she  with  a  smile  of  condescension. 

"  Here's  a  rum  quean,"  muttered  James  to  himself  as 
he  sought  his  own  region. 

The  first  chords  of  the  piano  struck  on  her  ear,  but  she 
did  not  heed  them.  Picking  up  a  foamy  white  shawl  of 
floss,  which  some  one  had  dropped,  she  flung  it  over  her 
shoulders  and  stepped  into  the  garden.  "  Ralfe  will 
follow  and  find  me.  Moonlight  and  the  sea,  these  are 
excellent  adjuncts.  I  wish  I  could  always  play  my  little 
drama  in  the  midst  of  such  well-devised  scenery.  That 
was  not  hashish  Sardia  gave  to  me.  Sardia !  I  could 
see  him  in  that  water  yonder  and  laugh  to  hear  him 
shriek.  He  should  drown  for  all  me  !  Who  is  he  ? 
What  is  he  ?  What  does  he  know  ?  Ah,  he  meant  I 
should  sleep  while  his  adored  Helen  should  for  once  be 
brilliant.  To  me  he  gives  a  sleeping-powder,  to  her 
hashish.  Well,  he  shall  pay.  The  moral  fool !  telling 
me  of  '  nature's  punishments ! '  It  will  not  be  long 
before  I  am  missed.  Kalfe  will  follow  me,  and  I  shall 
tell  him  why  he  was  —  Good  Heavens  !  " 

She  had  left  the  garden  which  sloped  to  the  sea  and 
entered  a  path  which  ran  along  the  edge  of  the  rocky 
cliff,  and  her  exclamation  was  one  of  sudden  fright. 
What  seemed  to  be  a  large  monkey  had  suddenly  scram 
bled  up  the  rocks  and  stood  like  a  very  little  demon  in 
her  pathway.  His  dress  was  scarlet  and  gold,  his  little 
fez  with  its  tossing  tassel,  his  dark  hands  and  darker 


A  STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT  57 

visage,  and  a  singularly  uncouth  noise  or  cry  which  came 
from  the  lower  part  of  the  throat,  were  enough  to  startle 
even  the  Visonti,  difficult  as  it  was  to  shake  her  steady 
nerves. 

"  Satan ! "  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  shadow  of  a 
rock  which  hid  the  speaker,  but  who  now  emerged. 
"  Imp !  Why  do  you  frighten  the  lady  out  of  her 
senses  ?  Go  to  the  carriage ! "  stamping  her  foot. 
"Madame,"  she  said,  advancing  as  swiftly  as  her  un 
wieldy  body  permitted,  "  madame,  I  am  foreign,  and  that 
little  dwarf  there  is  my  servant.  I  dropped  my  fan  and 
sent  him  down  over  the  rocks  for  it.  I  beg  pardon  for 
his  startling  you.  He  is  an  execrable  object !  "  She 
laughed  and  advanced  quite  near,  and  then  suddenly 
grasped  Miss  Visonti's  hand  as  in  a  vise.  "  Ah,"  said 
she,  "  it  is  as  I  thought ! "  in  a  clear,  bell-like  tone.  "  It 
is  as  I  thought !  It  is  you." 

"  Princess  !  "  gasped  Sybil. 

"  Be  silent ! "  she  thundered.  "  You  never  thought  to 
see  me  again.  America  is  far  away  from  Venice.  You 
wonder  how  I  am  here.  You  will  yet  learn  that  I  can 
be  anywhere  I  choose  whenever  I  choose.  You  think  I 
don't  know  your  design  in  coming  back  to  your  old 
friends.  Let  us  see.  Here  is  your  design,  my  charming 
saint.  Let  me  read  that  cultivated  mind  of  yours  ! " 
and  standing  directly  in  front  of  Sybil  whose  whole  face 
was  illuminated  with  the  moonlight,  she  said  scornfully, 
"  You  bear  the  name  of  Visonti  and  wear  a  beauty  of 
your  own ;  but  your  heart  is  cold,  your  mind  cruel,  and 
your  soul  stained  with  a  thousand  blots  ;  your  aura  at 
this  moment  is  black  with  a  set,  malicious  purpose. 
Money,  luxury,  ease  —  these  you  must  and  will  have,  and 
to  gain  them  you  are  here  trying  to  win  the  love  of  the 
husband  of  the  pretty  American  blonde.  La !  It  sounds 
like  a  little  primer  lesson  of  English  into  French.  You 


58  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

will  steal  him  and  his  money  away,  you  think.  You 
mean  to  work  the  ruin  of  a  happy  family  for  the  sake  of 
gaining  a  future  for  the  little  —  bambino" 

Sybil  interrupted  with  a  cry.  She  clasped  her  hands 
entreatingly.  I  "  Madame,  madame  !  "  she  breathed, 
pleadingly. 

"  Ah,  ptsh  !  never  mind.     I  know  it  all." 

"  Madame,"  said  the  Visonti,  mortal  anguish  and  fear 
for  once  making  her  truthful,  "you  do  know  everything. 
How  many  times  I  have  cursed  your  fatal  power  !  But 
do  not,  do  not !  What  have  I  done  to  you  ?  What  are 
my  secrets  to  you  ?  How  have  I  injured  you  that  you 
must  interfere  with  me  so  ?  Is  it  womanly,  fair,  kind, 
to  take  advantage  of  such  knowledge  as  you  may  have 
gained  ?  " 

"  Is  it  womanly,  fair,  kind,  to  deliberately  break 
another  woman's  heart,  and  that  woman  your  intimate 
friend  for  years  and  your  hostess  now,  while  you  plot 
your  wicked  plots  against  her  happiness  ?  " 

"  Is  that  any  reason  why  you  should  play  the  part  of 
God,  and  try  to  regulate  the  lives  of  strangers  ?  "  asked 
the  Visonti,  growing  bolder  as  they  parried. 

"  You  are  not  so  much  a  stranger  to  me  as  you  are  to 
yourself,"  said  the  Princess,  irrelevantly. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  Visonti  coldly,  glan 
cing  over  the  sea  and  half  turning  away. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  in  a  most  significant  tone. 

Sybil  faced  about.  "  Of  that  there  can  be  no  doubt," 
^aid  she  proudly.  "  I  am  the  only  Miss  Visonti  in  the 
world."  She  said  the  name  Visonti  with  all  the  fine 
imperial  pride  of  one  who  knew  it  to  be  old,  great,  and 
stainless. 

"  Let  the  young  American  woman  and  her  husband 
alone,"  said  the  Princess  Menshikoff  in  a  voice  like  the 
cutting  of  a  Damascus  blade.  "There  is  no  Miss 
Visonti!"  and  left  her. 


"NAME  FORGOTTEN"  59 

Sybil  looked  after  the  thick-set,  ungraceful  form  which 
slowly  approached  the  open  roadway  with  a  dignity  of 
mien  from  which  not  even  much  flesh  could  detract,  and 
thought  of  those  last  words,  which,  as  it  were,  ignored 
her  and  put  her  out  of  existence  with  one  stroke,  in  a 
maze  of  fury  and  wonder.  She  heard  the  call  for 
"  Satan,"  the  orders  to  the  coachman,  and  the  driving 
away  of  the  carriage  with  a  strange,  creeping  sense  of 
physical  fear. 

"  So  she  is  here,"  she  thought,  "  and  doubtless  will 
have  her  revenge.  Who  and  what  is  she  ?  What  may 
she  not  do  ?  Yet  she  has  hitherto  been  silent.  oSTo  Miss 
Visonti  ?  She  is  full  of  mysteries;  but  what  could  be 
more  correct  ?  In  what  kind  of  a  net  am  I  being 
caught  ?  What  possible  interest  can  she  have  in 
Helen  ?  I  have  never  heard  her  name  mentioned  in 
America.  Why  is  she  here  ?  " 

She  sank  down  on  a  rock  and  looked  out  over  the 
limitless  ocean,  with  its  broad  glitter  of  silver  rippling 
to  her  very  feet.  The  soft  splash  of  the  waves  gave  her 
a  new  sense  of  quiet.  She  laid  her  hot  cheek  against 
the  cool,  rough  side  of  a  rock,  and  then  laid  her  throb 
bing  wrists  against  it  while  she  drooped  her  head  on  her 
arms.  Plash,  splash,  ripple,  recede,  advance,  came  the 
ever-sobbing  monotone  and  the  distant  roar,  speaking 
eternally  the  same  deep,  wonderful  message. 

"Better  not  to  think,"  she  murmured,  shudderingly. 
"Better  to  live  it  out  from  day  to  day  and  then  sink 
into  the  ocean  of  oblivion.  Hate  or  love,  failure  or  suc 
cess,  what  does  it  matter  ?  Oh,  how  weary  I  am  !  how 
sad  I  am  !  " 

The  soft  sound  of  mellow  horns  and  stringed  instru 
ments  swiftly  seemed  to  infold  her.  Over  the  rumbling 
base  of  the  sea  the  most  exquisite  melody  rose  above 
and  around  her.  A  large  yacht  came  speeding  along 


60  SARDIA:  A  STOEY  OF  LOVE 

like  a  beautiful  vision.  The  musicians  were  ou  board, 
and  soon  rich  male  voices  were  singing  that  delicious 
barcarolle :  — 

"  The  stars  in  heaven  are  glowing, 

The  moon  her  bright  face  showing, 

But  ah  !  ray  tears  are  flowing, 

My  heart  is  sad  and  lone  ! 

My  heart  is  sad  and  lone  ! " 

"Yes,"  she  murmured,  "my  heart  is  sad  and  lone. 
My  soul  is  sad  and  lone.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  the  one  for 
gotten  thing  of  all  the  universe.  Home  forgotten,  love 
forgotten,  God  forgotten, "and  she  adds  "name  forgotten." 

She  shook  with  a  sudden  passion  of  tears.  The 
voices  in  the  yacht  grew  fainter  :  — 

"  Come,  then,  ah,  come  thou  my  own  love,  come  !  " 

She  rose  and  stretched  her  arms  out  towards  the  flying 
vessel  with  a  gesture  of  despair.  "  Yes,  you  beautiful 
white-winged  thing  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  would  I  could  go 
with  you  away  anywhere,  anywhere  into  eternal  space, 
darkness,  annihilation!" 

"  Oh,  horrors  !  What  an  awful  wish  ! "  laughed  Lulu's 
innocent  and  happy  voice.  "  We  didn't  know  but  you 
had  eloped  or  something.  I  ran  ahead  of  the  others,  for 
I  was  certain  you  would  be  down  here.  Isn't  it  a  per 
fectly  splendid  night  ?  We  couldn't  find  you,  you  know, 
in  the  house,  and  they  took  Helen  off  to  bed.  We  all 
came  out  in  the  garden  to  search  for  3-011.  Here  they 
come.  Guy,  Guy  !  I've  found  her,  wishing  herself  in 
perdition  !  "  and  she  laughed  a  merry  peal.  But  she 
stole  her  arm  in  that  of  Sybil's,  and  gave  it  a  little 
squeeze.  In  spite  of  her  instinctive  distrust,  she  felt  a 
strange  attraction  towards  this  beautiful,  dark  woman, 
and  now  was  tenderly  moved  by  those  tears  in  the  voice 
which  hacl  so  longed  to  get  "away." 


A  FALLEN  ANGEL  61 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    SPIDER    SPINS. 

"  And  out  of  good  still  to  find  means  of  evil." 

Paradise  Lost. 

LULU  continued  affectionately  clasping  Miss  Visonti's 
arm  until  they  all  reached  the  house,  and  after  some 
light  chat,  when  the  company  dispersed  for  the  night, 
accepted  an  invitation  to  stay  a  short  time  in  Sybil's 
chamber  before  retiring.  Nothing  had  been  said  of  the 
little  revelation  which  had  so  unconsciously  been  made 
by  Helen,  of  the  Visonti's  powers  of  deception.  All 
were  too  well  bred  to  pain  a  guest  of  the  same  house, 
and  therefore  only  a  general  description  was  given  of 
the  "Hashish  party,"  with  some  discussion  as  to  why 
the  drug  had  simply  put  the  Visonti  to  sleep.  She 
betrayed  no  hint  of  her  belief  as  to  the  real  cause,  save 
by  a  sudden  glance  at  Sardia,  which  might  have  killed 
him  could  it  have  turned  into  a  dagger,  so  full  of  keen, 
sharp,  suspicious  hatred  it  was.  But  his  calm  face  indi 
cated  no  consciousness  of  the  thrust.  Ealfe  had  not  fol 
lowed  the  party  into  the  garden  nor  did  he  appear  again. 
He  had  retired  into  the  library  and  swung  the  door  nearly 
shut  after  him.  They  could  see  a  portion  of  his  figure 
seated  at  his  desk,  as  they  went  up-stairs.  Serenely 
unconscious  then  of  anything  in  her  disfavor,  Sybil 
welcomed  Lu  to  an  easy-chair  in  her  richly  furnished 
bedroom  and  proceeded  to  make  her  guest  "  perfectly 
at  home."  That  she  was  an  artist  cannot  be  gainsaid. 


62  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Not  a  person  in  the  world  was  too  insignificant  for  her 
to  regard  with  some  slight  thoughtfulness.  Each  human 
being  represented  to  her  a  tool,  a  lover,  or  an  enemy. 
She  intended  to  make  the  whole  world  serve  her.  What 
ever  goodness  she  possessed  only  tended  to  make  her 
more  dangerous,  since  it  cast  aside  by  some  unlooked-for 
act,  the  suspicion  which  her  subtlety  had  aroused.  Cul 
tured  she  certainly  was,  and  to  an  accurate  taste  in  art  and 
literature  she  added  an  acute  appreciation  of  nature  and 
a  sufficient  idea  of  science  to  fascinate  men  of  all  grades 
and  interest  even  envious  women.  With  these  she  pos 
sessed  that  infinite  grace  of  movement,  that  caressing 
manner,  that  honey  sweet  voice,  which  is  perilously 
entrancing  to  even  the  soberest  minds.  Intellectually 
and  physically  the  exponent  of  a  fine  civilization,  she 
was  morally  a  barbarian.  While  smiling  a  seraph  smile 
she  was  perfectly  cold  at  heart,  and  as  calmly  plotful  as 
Machiavelli. 

"  You  will  not  mind  my  removing  this  heavy  dress  ?  " 
she  now  queried  of  pretty  rosebud  Lu,  who  was  looking 
at  her  with  a  soft,  captivated  gaze. 

Something  in  her  tone  produced  an  odd  effect  upon 
Lulu.  Her  cheeks  drew  to  themselves  an  even  brighter 
color.  A  certain  unnatural  light  came  into  her  eyes. 
She  seemed  to  anticipate  something,  she  knew  not  what. 

"  I  shall  be  glad,"  she  said  breathlessly. 

Miss  Yisonti's  face  became  a  study.  What  was  that 
subtle  triumph,  that  gratified  vanity,  that  sense  of  power, 
which  made  her  even  more  alluring  ?  Like  a  fallen 
angel  who  smiles  at  the  possibility  of  enticing  an  inno. 
cent  mortal  to  his  own  low  estate,  Sybil  for  an  instant 
showed  a  gleam  of  fiendish  satisfaction.  "  They  shall 
all  be  like  me  if  I  can  make  them  so,"  she  thought,  "  I 
will  teach  this  silly  child  a  few  ideas."  She  slowly 
drew  off  one  garment  and  then  another,  talking  the 


THAT  BEWITCHING   CURVE  63 

while  in  a  low,  vibrant  tone  which  seemed  to  thrill  her 
listener  like  a  draught  of  wine. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  graceful  ?  "  asked  Lulu  presently, 
as  Sybil  draped  about  her  a  light,  large  shawl,  of  crepe 
du  chine  which  clung  to  the  voluptuous  figure  as  if  in 
love  with  it  and  seemed  to  caress  with  its  soft  folds  the 
person  it  but  half  concealed. 

"  Ah,  that  is  taught  in  Paris,  and  I  was  long  a  pupil 
of  the  greatest  master  of  expression  in  the  world ! 
Alas,  that  America  should  never  have  so  exquisite  an 
art  taught  to  every  one  who  has  an  appreciation  of 
beauty  ! " 

"  Why,  we  have  schools  in  which  pupils  are  prepared 
for  the  stage  !  "  exclaimed  Lu  in  surprise.  "  Didn't  you 
know  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  how  !  "  impatiently.  "  They  are  taught  the 
mere  rudiments.  Can  they  do  this  ? "  And  suddenly 
with  a  grace  which  seemed  marvellous,  she  raised  her 
arm  and  described  an  undulating  curve. 

It  was  silent  music.  There  was  something  in  that 
delicious  curve  which  touched  Lulu's  sensuous  nature  to 
the  core.  Her  imagination  ran  riot,  and  seemed  to  see  it 
in  a  thousand  different  forms,  colors,  and  materials. 

"  Ah,  you  see  !  even  ungainly  and  disagreeable  objects 
in  themselves  will  become  beautiful  and  harmonious 
when  that  curve  runs  through  them  :  they  become  satis 
factory  to  mind  and  soul.  How  much  more  lovely  then 
would  a  lovely  woman  become  if  she  could  know  the 
delicacies  of  gesture  ! "  And  she  bent  over  Lulu  with  a 
dazzling  smile.  "  Why,  with  that  curve  in  my  posses 
sion  to  use  as  I  will,"  she  went  on,  "  with  the  grace  that 
undulating  line  can  give  my  body,  I  will  yet  become 
rich,  famous,  beloved  !  I  make  every  whit  of  my  body 
serve  me  for  my  pleasure,"  she  added  significantly. 

"  There  must  be  some  rules  by  which  one  could  learn/' 
said  Lulu  thoughtfully. 


64  SARDIA:  A  STOBY  OF  LOVE 

"  Certainly.  They  are  the  law  of  rhythm  and  the  law 
of  opposites.  The  law  of  rhythm  is  the  making  of  ges 
ture  at  the  exact  instant  and  to  the  exact  time  of  the 
words.  »As  the  language  grows  more  impassioned,  the 
delivery  quicker,  the  movement  of  the  body,  the  sway 
of  the  limbs,  the  play  of  the  features,  the  rapidity 
of  the  changes  must  be  in  harmony,  or  that  magnetic 
power  which  springs  from  an  appreciation  of  beauty  in 
the  audience  is  lost.  The  law  of  opposition  is  that  when 
one  hand  moves  to  the  right  the  other  should  move  to 
the  left.  '  Keep  your  balance  '  is  one  of  the  maxims." 

"  Oh,  do  something  more  ! "  said  Lu  curiously. 

Sybil  stood  perfectly  erect,  the  drapery  of  fleecy  silk 
carelessly  wound  about  her.  Slowly,  with  a  sinuous, 
gentle  movement,  she  made  Lulu  aware  that  she  was 
happy  in  a  quiet,  pensive  way ;  then  she  became  mirth 
ful,  then  joyous,  then  radiantly  glad,  and  finally  passion 
ately  blissful ;  growing  thoughtful,  doubtful,  suspicious, 
jealous,  angry,  and,  at  last,  raving  mad,  in  a  series  of 
gestures  and  expressions  of  the  face  which  so  flowed  into 
each  other,  yet  kept  their  individuality,  that  the  whole 
seemed  like  an  acted  poem ;  its  feeling,  rhyme,  music, 
rhythm,  cadence,  and  harmony  being  made  literally  vis 
ible  in  this  magnificent  woman's  person. 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  breathed  Lu  in  astonished  admira 
tion.  "  No  wonder  you  can  make  any  one  love  you  whom 
you  please." 

"  And  do  you  love  me,  little  one  ?  "  approaching  so 
swiftly  that  the  shawl  became  entangled  about  her 
feet. 

Lulu  turned  her  head  away  and  did  not  answer. 

"When  I  let  my  draperies  go,"  Sybil  remarked 
coolly,  gathering  up  the  tissue  and  knotting  it  about 
her  waist,  without  noticing  Lulu's  averted  head,  "  I 
always  think  of  that  charming  poem  of  '  Hero  and 


TEMPTED  65 

Leander,'  so  admirably  put  into  verse  by  Arnold.     Do 
you  remember  the  bridal  scene  ?     You  know  the  line  : — 

"  '  "With  that  soft  leave  he  loosed  her  virgin  zone ! '  " 

She  had  hoped  to  awaken  another  response  than  Lulu's 
"  Yes,  I  read  it  with  my  mother.  I  remember  how  beauti 
fully  she  spoke  of  it  and  how  delicately.  She  said, 
'You  will  understand,  dear,  how  this  utterly  transcen 
dent  whiteness  of  passion  exceeds  all  the  lotus  buds, 
champak,  and  melting  music  of  the  "  Song  uf  Songs," 
ravishing  though  they  be.  The  scene  is  Greek,  just 
like  a  statue.  It  is  strong,  clean  and  classic.  My  child, 
when  you  are  older,  you  will  know  it  is  a  beautiful  thing 
to  feel  that  some  time,  some  where,  nature  culminates  in 
purity  when  left  alone.' " 

The  Visonti  had  failed.  She  had  only  fired  the  intel 
lect.  The  imagination  remained  untouched. 

"Your  mother  speaks  freely  with  you,"  she  said  dryly. 

"  She  desires  me  to  know  enough  of  human  nature  to 
be  good  from  principle,  not  from  ignorance.  '  Untempted 
innocence  is  possible  guilt '  is  one  of  her  sayings,  and 
then  "  added  Lu,  with  a  tender  accent  creeping  into  her 
voice,  "it  is  so  beautiful  to  learn  life  from  a  mother 
instead  of  from  schoolgirls  ! " 

"  Innocence  does  not  set  well  on  a  woman  of  thirty. 
It  will  not  pass  for  virtue ! "  exclaimed  Sybil,  as  she 
stood  before  the  mirror  and  surveyed  herself  with  com 
placent  admiration.  "But  come,  child,  stand  by  me  and 
see  what  difference  there  is  besides  age  between  you 
and  me." 

Lulu  with  a  bound  sprang  to  her  side.  They  stood  for 
a  moment  gazing  straight  at  each  other's  faces  in  the 
reflection,  when  the  Visonti  suddenly  clasped  the  young 
girl  close,  in  a  magnetic  embrace.  Her  bare,  rounded 
arms  and  full,  throbbing  throat  softly  caressed  Lulu, 


66  SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

who,  with  an  enraptured  expression  and  a  filmy  haze  in 
her  eyes,  still  kept  her  charmed  gaze  on  the  other's  face. 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  us,  darling  ?  "  mur 
mured  Sybil,  with  soft,  clinging  kisses  on  the  high,  white 
forehead,  and  hot,  flushed  cheeks ;  "  only  this,  cherie ! 
that  thou  art  light  and  I  am  dark  ;  thou  art  North  and  I 
am  South ;  thou  art  unawakened  and  I  am  all  awake ! 
Beautiful  innocent,  how  thy  lovely  youth  appeals  to 
me!" 

Lulu  felt  herself  losing  all  power  of  reasoning.  Her 
heart  seemed  ceasing  to  beat,  her  eyes  were  suffused. 
She  felt  herself  about  to  press  a  kiss  on  Sybil  Visonti's 
lips,  when  suddenly  she  seemed  to  hear  Guy's  voice 
warning  her.  "  Beware  !  "  it  rang  out ;  "  she  wins 
women  as  easily  as  she  does  men.  I  have  seen  her  table 
loaded  with  gifts  from  women.  She  possesses  a  strange, 
undefinable  power  to  which  all  must,  more  or  less,  yield." 

"  I  yield  no  more  ! "  she  thought,  catching  a  long  breath, 
and  stepping  quickly  away. 

"  I  can't  endure  women's  kisses,"  she  burst  out  bravely, 
and  with  all  the  vehemence  of  an  offended  child.  "  Miss 
Visonti,  I  will  not  be  so  kissed  ! " 

Lurid  lightning  leaped  for  a  second  into  those  dark 
eyes  ;  but  she  answered  tenderly,  "  You  were  so  beauti 
ful,  dear,  I  could  not  help  it !  I  am  such  a  passionate 
admirer  of  beauty,  and  your  sweet  face  is  so  fair.  Will 
you  not  forgive  me  ?  " 

Lulu  dropped  her  defiant  mood  instantly.  "  How  bad 
I  am  ! "  she  thought.  "  I  have  wronged  her  completely. 
I  am  worse  than  she  is  ! "  And  with  an  air  of  penitence 
which  was  positively  touching,  she  lifted  up  those  warm, 
red  lips  which  a  moment  before  she  had  angrily  withdrawn, 
and  suffered  the  Visonti  to  take  her  fill  of  their  fragrant 
loveliness. 

"  How  potent  is  flattery ! "  sneered  Sybil  to  herself, 


THE  SONNET  67 

completely  misjudging  her.  "Do  you  smoke  ?  "  she 
asked  suddenly,  as  she  tied  the  satin  ribbons  of  a  creamy 
wrapper  about  her.  "  I  have  some  excellent  cigarettes 
here  and  a  little  wine.  It  is  a  cordial,  rather,  —  do  you 
know  it,  Benedictine  ? "  She  held  up  a  short  fat- 
paunched  bottle,  prominently  marked  D.  0.  M.,  with  a 
cross  and  sealed  with  leaden  strips. 

The  matter-of-course  way  in  which  she  set  about  making 
her  little  guest  comfortable  made  Lulu  feel  very  simple  in 
deed;  for^he  not  only  did  not  smoke,  but  she  had  never 
seen  a  lady  smoke,  and  as  for  Benedictine,  she  had  never 
even  heard  of  it.  But  what  young  girl  desires  to  appear 
"  green,"  especially  before  a  graceful  woman  of  the  world, 
who  would  lightly  ridicule  the  slightest  touch  of  false 
shame  !  Nevertheless,  Lulu  herself  did  not  wholly  lack 
diplomacy. 

"  I  will  not  smoke,"  said  she  nonchalantly ;  "  but  I 
will  drink  your  health." 

Sybil  gave  her  a  delicate  wine-glass  filled  with  the 
delicious  liqueur. 

"  Oh,  violets  !  heliotrope  !  roses  !  spices  !  the  whole 
garden  of  Paradise ! "  exclaimed  Lulu  rapturously,  as 
she  held  the  glass  to  her  pretty  little  nose.  "  I  never 
knew  a  wine  could  be  a  perfume  too  ! " 

"  Drink,  sweet ! " 

She  did  so.     "  Honied  flame  !  "  she  cried. 

"  It  has  been  made  by  the  Benedictine  monks  ever  since 
1510,  and  they  say  the  receipt  remains  unchanged.  A 
friend  of  mine  wrote  a  sonnet  in  its  praise.  I  wonder  if 
I  could  remember  it,"  — 

"  Please  try,"  sipping  like  a  bee  at  a  flower. 

"  Delicious  nectar!  by  the  monks  of  old 

Made  precious,  mingled  with  their  prayers  and  sighs; 
Or,  if  perchance  some  lamb  within  the  fold 
Found  just  approval  in  their  critic  eyes, 


68  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Drank  with  a  wild,  delirious  throb  of  joy 

To  beauty,  youth,  and  passion  held  at  bay,  — 
Or,  if  permitted,  — he,  the  winged  boy 

Clipped  i'  the  wings,  never  to  flee  away ! 
How  in  this  later  age,  thine  amber  flame 

We  hold  on  high,  and  pledge  with  equal  praise 
Fair  loveliness  and  pleasure,  quite  the  same 

As  beardless  priests  in  darker,  saintlier  days! 
Thou  Benedictine!     Lift  thy  golden  bloom! 
Spread  violets  and  summer  through  the  room." 

Lulu  listened  with  a  pleased  but  puzzled  air.  " '  The 
winged  boy  —  Cupid  ?  clipped  i'  the  wings,  never  to  flee 
away  ? '  "  she  repeated  questioningly. 

"  They  kept  their  nuns  very  close/'  said  Sybil  signifi- 
ficantly. 

Lulu  jumped  up  and  set  her  little  glass  down  with  a 
crash.  "This  is  wicked,"  she  said,  with  an  angry 
frown.  "  I  do  not  like  it !  " 

Sybil  laughed  a  low,  languorous,  seductive  laugh. 
"  How  good  it  is  to  renew  myself  in  you,"  she  mur 
mured. 

Lulu  walked  to  the  door,  and  unceremoniously  tossed 
a  good-night  over  her  shoulder.  "  Charlie  Vane  was 
right:  she  is  a  vampire,"  she  thought,  somewhat  irrel 
evantly. 

"  I  suppose  this  is  what  Sardia  would  call  bad  morals," 
murmured  the  Visonti  to  herself,  as  she  laughed  a  little 
sneer  after  the  indignant  Lulu.  "  I  hate  young  girls  ! " 


JAMES  FORGETS  A  DUTY  69 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALL    ABOUT    A    LETTER. 

"I'll  example  you  with  thievery." 

Timon  of  Athens. 

THE  very  excellent  and  methodical  waiter  James,  who 
was  the  model  of  butleristic  virtues,  for  once  had  forgot 
ten  a  duty.  As  he  had  replaced  the  glittering  decanter 
of  French  brandy  in  the  sideboard,  he  had  suddenly 
become  aware  of  a  singular  and  searching  pain  in  the 
abdominal  cavity.  That  this  pain  should  arrive  at  so 
appropriate  a  season,  was  a  coincidence  which  somewhat 
astonished  the  good  James,  but  he  hailed  the  fact  as  an 
indication  of  a  very  intelligent  stomach,  and  so  pro 
ceeded  to  reward  it  accordingly.  Having  reduced  the 
pain  to  a  state  of  serenity,  he  then  treated  it  for  the 
sake  of  its  good-humor,  and  finally,  while  holding  the 
beautiful  bottle  between  his  critical  eye  and  the  light, 
he  discovered  that  it  was  not  tinged  with  the  slightest 
shade  of  brown.  Not  a  drop  remained.  Now  some  hours 
afterwards,  having  retired  to  his  bed,  he  suddenly  sat  up. 
Something  was  disturbing  his  well-governed  conscience. 
He  endeavored  to  remember  whether  the  plate  had  been 
carefully  stowed  away  and  locked  in  the  velvet-lined 
safes;  yes,  that  was  all' right.  Perhaps  he  had  forgot 
ten  to  lock  the  hall  window  ?  Oh,  no,  not  at  all !  Well, 
what  had  been  left  unordered  ?  Would  anything  be 
lacking  for  to-morrow's  breakfast  ?  What  day  was  it  ? 
Saturday  !  Ah,  that  was  it.  It  was  Saturday  night  and 
the  great  clock  had  not  been  wound. 


70  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Now  twice  within  "a  quarter''  be  had  forgotten  this 
simple  duty.  Now  again  he  would  be  taken  to  task  in 
the  morning,  and  be  the  recipient  of  a  frown  from  his 
master  —  that  master  whom  he  would  give  up  his  life  (but 
not  his  brandy)  to  please  !  For  was  not  the  clock  an 
old  heirloom,  and  was  not  the  regular  winding  of  it  posi 
tively  necessary  for  its  internal  welfare  ?  So  it  had  been 
impressed  upon  him.  James  laughed  to  himself,  and 
slowly  stuck  a  rather  large  foot  and  fat  calf  out  of  bed. 
"  Cognac  is  positively  necessary  for  my  internal  welfare," 
said  he. 

The  house  was  all  dark  and  quiet  as  he  proceeded  in 
loosely  hung  habiliments  and  soft  list  slippers,  to  make 
his  way  slowly  down  into  the  lower  hall.  When  there, 
and  standing  by  the  ancient  time-piece,  he  discovered 
that  the  library  was  still  lighted  and  the  door  half  open. 
Mr.  Fielding  was  pacing  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room. 
He  seemed  disturbed  and  frequently  gnawed  his  upper 
lip,  —  a  habit  of  his  when  in  deep  thought. 

Now  large  clocks  with  brass  works  make  considerable 
noise  when  being  wound,  and  James  was  sure  if  he 
attempted  to  do  it  his  master  would  hear  him.  That 
would  be  most  unpleasant.  His  personal  vanity  would 
not  permit  a  rencontre  in  so  light  a  dishabille  ;  indeed,  he 
feared  he  might  meet  with  genuine  disapproval  of  many 
other  things  about  himself  at  such  an  hour.  What  should 
he  do  ?  As  he  hesitated,  Mr.  Fielding  approached  his 
desk  and  took  up  a  letter.  He  removed  it  from  the 
envelope,  began  to  read  it  and  exclaimed,  "  Dated  at 
Paris,  March  16 !  How  few  months  since  this  was 
written,  —  and  now  !  "  He  threw  it  down  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor  again. 

Just  then,  something  above  him  attracted  James's  at 
tention.  Had  he  been  of  Irish  descent  he  would  have 
probably  cried  out  with  superstitious  fear ;  but  he  was 


TWO   TAKE  ADVANTAGE  71 

"Hinglish"  to  the  backbone,  and  so  slunk  into  the 
deeper  shadow  by  the  side  of  the  tall  clock  and  waited. 
Slowly  a  vision  of  snowy  white  stole  down  the  stairs. 
It  was  a  woman  in  a  long  trailing  garment  which  made 
not  a  sound  on  the  thick  pile  of  the  carpet,  but  fell 
silently  step  by  step  after  her  quiet  feet.  With  held 
breath  James  tried  to  discern  in  the  darkness  who  it 
could  be.  "It's  the  mistress,  certain,"  thought  he,  "and 
when  she  goes  into  the  library,  maybe  she  will  shut  the 
door,  and  then  I  can  wind  up  the  old  ticker  in  a  hurry." 
But  when  she  had  approached  the  door  he  suppressed  a 
start  of  surprise.  "  If  it  isn't  that  rum  quean  !  " 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Fielding  again  sat  down  at  his 
desk  and  took  up  the  letter.  He  opened  it  out  before 
him  as  if  to  read  it  thoroughly.  Sybil  Visonti  silently 
stole  in  behind  him.  It  was  her  intention  to  put  her 
hands  over  his  eyes  and  then  with  a  soft  kiss  and  word 
to  awaken  him  to  who  so  blinded  him.  She  approached 
with  arms  outstretched  for  the  purpose,  when  her  eyes 
suddenly  caught  the  date  of  the  letter,  and  with  a  start, 
she  withdrew  her  hands  and  stood  perfectly  still.  With 
one  more  keen  look  at  the  sheet,  she  began  to  slowly 
retreat.  Long  practice  alone  in  the  difficult  art  of  carry 
ing  a  train  could  have  given  her  such  grace  and  ease  in 
the  departure  backwards  out  of  that  large  library.  But 
she  did  it  so  noiselessly  that  Ralfe  read  on,  as  uncon 
scious  of  her  presence  as  if  he  had  been  under  the  in 
fluence  of  an  opiate.  She  gained  the  hall  and  stood  in 
the  shadow,  watching  him. 

If  she  held  her  breath,  how  much  more  so  did  James  ! 
He  felt  his  heart  knock  against  his  ribs,  and  could  have 
sworn  at  himself  until  morning  to  think  his  "  wind  " 
would  make  the  least  noise  in  escaping. 

Having  carefully  read  the  letter  through,  Ralfe  re 
placed  it  in  the  envelope,  tossed  it  into  the  desk,  care- 


72  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

lessly  turned  the  key  without  taking  it  away,  and 
stepped  to  the  window. 

Not  a  sigh  stirred  the  leaves.  The  moon  at  the 
zenith  was  gloriously  white  and  full.  The  silence  of 
one  o'clock  lay  over  the  scene.  He  pushed  aside  the 
curtain  and  stepped  out.  In  a  moment  his  steps  could 
be  heard  going  in  the  direction  of  the  sea.  In  a  flash, 
Sybil  sprang  into  the  library,  turned  the  key  of  the 
desk,  caught  up  the  letter,  returned  the  key  and  came 
out  into  the  hall,  slipping  the  paper  into  her  pocket. 
She  then  quietly  went  up  to  her  room,  shut  the  door 
softly,  and  locked  it. 

James  stood  for  a  moment  quite  dumbfounded.  Then 
with  a  sardonic  chuckle,  he  said,  — 

"  I  might  as  well  take  my  little  advantage  too  ! "  and 
began  to  wind  the  clock.  Ascending  the  stairs,  he 
passed  Sybil's  door  still  drolly  chuckling,  and  finally  got 
into  bed  saying,  "  Ay,  but  she's  the  rummest  quean  I 
ever  see !  First,  she  drinks  brandy,  then  she  gets  lost, 
and  arter  that  she  creeps  down  at  midnight  and  hooks 
the  master's  papers.  That's  high  life,  that  is  !  Bum 
kind  o'  life  too,  just  like  a  book.  Jinks,  but  she's  a 
game  'un  !  None  o'  my  business  though.  Jeemes,  if  you 
knows  yourself,  don't  you  tell  no  tales  below  stairs  ! " 
And  he  settled  himself  with  a  profound  sense  of  his  own 
wisdom. 

Ralfe  had  spent  a  very  unusual  two  hours.  He  was 
not  given  to  taking  himself  to  task,  and  seldom  troubled 
himself  to  criticise  his  own  state  of  feeling ;  but  the 
events  of  the  evening  had  seemed  to  throw  his  thoughts 
into  inextricable  confusion,  which  he  vainly  endeavored 
to  disentangle.  Until  now  he  had  never  permitted  him 
self  to  compare  Miss  Visonti  with  his  wife.  He  was  so 
firmly  convinced  of  his  deathless  passion  for  Sybil  that 


RALFE'S  REVENGE  73 

the  very  thought  of  comparing  her  with  any  other  woman 
was  obnoxious  to  him.  The  imagination  of  feeling,  the 
poetry  of  emotion  which  filled  his  sensitive  spirit  with 
delight,  made  the  very  name  of  his  loved  one  a  sacred 
thing.  To  her  he  had  given  the  first  bright,  unsullied 
ardor  of  his  life.  And  beautiful  was  the  awakening 
of  a  soul  so  responsive.  It  had  vaguely  occurred  to 
'him  at  times  that  he  made  his  own  paradise  as  he  went 
along,  for  he  had  that  gift  of  the  gods,  acuteness  of  per 
ception,  and  the  power  to  take  advantage  of  it.  All 
that  was  sensuous  in  nature  he  took  to  his  heart  and 
felt.  The  perfumes  from  the  garden  and  the  orchard 
brought  him  keen  delights.  The  flush  of  roses  that 
burned  along  the  hedgerow  lingered  in  his  memory  long 
after  he  had  entered  the  dust  and  heat  of  the  city.  The 
brave,  free  carol  of  the  bobolink,  who  piped  and  trilled 
to  him  in  summer  dawns,  awakened  in  his  receptive 
fancy  those  indescribable  emotions  which  lend  enchant 
ment  to  the  livelong  day.  The  mountains  seemed  to 
lift  him  to  their  heights.  The  ocean  bore  his  soul  upon 
its  bosom.  God's  stars  he  saw  and  loved  as  something 
near  :  close  to  the  unseen,  he  was  still  in  thorough  sym 
pathy  with  the  seen.  The  keenest  wit,  the  subtlest 
philosophy,  the  most  gracious  charms  of  poetry  and 
symmetry  were  all  but  ministers  to  serve  or  give  him 
absolute  contentment.  Fantastic,  sportive,  pathetic, 
half  spiritual,  his  moods  grew  out  of  the  experiences  of 
the  hour.  The  tenderness  of  his  nature  lent  to  the 
simplest  phrase  or  commonest  greeting  all  the  eloquence 
of  a  caress. 

The  gay  whirl  of  European  dissipation  had  enlight 
ened  him  as  to  the  blunt  realisms  of  life,  quickened  his 
intellect,  deepened  his  character,  confirmed  his  habits, 
settled  his  morals,  but  never  once  had  touched  his 
heart.  Not  until  his  eyes  had  rested  on  the  dark  face 


74  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

destined  to  enchant  him  had  he  felt  one  quicker  throb 
of  the  pulse  which  arose  from  anything  stronger 
than  ordinary  causes.  The  mental  and  physical  excite 
ment  which  rounded  character  and  person,  in  no  wise 
trespassing  upon  the  soul,  left  it  as  virginal  and  respon 
sive  as  that  of  a  child.  Discriminating  the  perception 
and  fine  the  art  which  could  discover  that  hidden  treasure, 
and  could  assume  the  semblance  of  a  being  worthy  to 
receive  its  pure  yet  fervid  glow  ! 

But  now,  with  the  mystery  of  the  returned  declara 
tion  undisclosed ;  the  strange  secret  which  had  haunted 
him  ever  since  the  first  hint  of  it  had  inadvertently 
faltered  from  Sybil's  lips,  and  yet  which  he  had  ac 
cepted  without  question,  with  a  faith  and  love  that  could 
not  brook  a  thought  of  evil ;  with  the  superb  woman 
under  his  own  roof,  who  had  magically  given  the  very 
air  a  new  zest,  while  some  adverse  fate  had  as  yet  given 
him  no  opportunity  to  see  her  for  a  single  moment  alone, 
—  he  felt  himself  growing  desperate,  his  senses  became 
even  more  enthralled,  while  his  instinct  coldly  warned 
him  of  —  he  knew  not  what. 

Yet  with  a  singular  curiosity  he  analyzed  his  own 
condition.  Inevitably  with  this  came  the  remembrance 
of  the  new  legal  barrier  which  he  had  voluntarily 
placed  between  himself  and  his  idol.  He  cursed  his 
folly  in  a  thousand  eloquent  terms.  The  thought  of  his 
bondage  was  agonizing.  For  if  she  did  not  love  him, 
why  was  Sybil  here  ?  But  then,  his  promise  to  be  true 
to  Helen.  What  was  it  to  be  true  ?  To  what  extent 
might  he  morally  go  ?  If  Helen  loved  him,  there  could 
be  no  question.  But  if  she  did  not  ?  If  she,  too,  in 
her  secret  heart,  longed  to  shatter  the  ties  of  conven 
ience  as  he  believed  he  did  ?  Surely,  Helen  loved  Sir 
Sardia.  Had  she  not  preferred  him  this  very  evening, 
and  when  quite  irresponsible  ?  Was  not  her  choice  the 


A  DARLING  WOMAN  75 

natural  expression  of  her  heart  ?  He  involuntarily 
thought  of  her  beauty.  Her  pure,  sweet  face  turned  so 
trustingly  to  Sardia  suddenly  came  before  him  with  a 
sensation  of  pain.  He  all  at  once  felt  angry,  hot  and 
disgusted.  He  would  like  to  thrust  his  friend  out  of  his 
path  like  a  dog.  His  blood  rose  in  fire  to  his  temples  at 
the  thought  of  Helen,  his  wife  Helen,  lavishing  her  de 
votion  on  another,  and  perhaps  to  her  future  grief  and 
chagrin,  giving  forth  an  unreturned  affection.  He  would 
defend  his  comrade.  Comrade  !  The  word  struck  coldly 
and  bitterly  on  his  ear.  How  far  away  it  made  her 
seem,  how  remote  from  any  possible  love  for  him  ! 

How  deeply  blue  her  eyes  had  looked  when  she  appealed 
to  him,  yes,  to  him,  not  to  Sardia,  for  protection  and  en 
couragement  !  He  felt  a  glow  of  chivalrous  tenderness 
replace  his  vague  jealousy.  Helen  was  a  darling  woman. 
How  exquisitely  she  had  sung  !  Now  he  remembered  he 
had  never  heard  her  sing  alone  before.  She  had  joined 
her  voice  with  the  others  when  sailing,  or  when  they  had 
gathered  about  the  piano,  but  he  could  not  remember 
that  he  had  requested  her  to  sing  particularly  for  him. 
His  conscience  troubled  him. 

"  I  have  not  been  so  polite  to  her  as  to  an  ordinary 
guest.  What  must  she  think  of  me  !  I  have  accepted 
her  proposition  of  being  a  mere  comrade  with  a  ven 
geance  !  No  wonder  she  turns  to  one  who  watches  her 
lightest  word,  who  is  never  for  an  instant  forgetful  of 
what  is  due  a  beautiful  woman  and  his  hostess.  But 
the  song ! 

"  '  Oh,  life  is  such  a  little  part 
To  the  great  love  '  — 

And  she  wrote  it  when  a  mere  schoolgirl.  By  Jove ! 
in  Paris  I  called  it  a  work  of  genius  —  then  I  thought  it 
an  improvisation,  and  Sybil's  —  and  now,  it  shows  a  deal 


76  SARDIA:  A   STORY  OF  LOVE 

of  talent.  So  ray  little  wife  is  a  poet.  A  pair  of  poets  ! 
How  keenly  appreciative  she  seemed  of  my  work  that 
day  !  How  sweet  she  looked  when  I  was  about  to  read 
to  her,  and  that  —  I  must  be  mad  !  I  almost  said  '  that 
woman ! '  How  she  looked  in  her  sleep  !  What  a 
strange,  horrible  expression  !  Guy  was  a  brick.  Dear, 
courteous  old  boy !  He  would  excuse  the  Devil.  But 
the  proof  of  her  deliberate  deception  —  theft !  "  Thus 
he  suddenly  characterized  it.  "It  was  not  even  literary 
plagiarism,  it  was  simple  theft.  Yet  all  women  make 
use  of  these  little  arts.  She  could  not  have  dreamed  it 
would  ever  injure  Helen  —  'all  is  fair  in  love  and  ivar,'  " 
he  argued. 

Reading  the  letter  so  coldly  returned  to  him  his  sense 
of  doubt  and  wrong  culminated,  by  a  slow  mental  process, 
in  a  feeling  of  bitterness  with  all  the  world,  and  finally 
left  him,  as  it  were  stranded,  neither  on  sea  nor  on  land. 
His  quiet  walk  down  the  garden  to  the  water  ended 
abruptly  with  the  thought,  "I  will  see  Sybil  alone,  as 
soon  as  possible.  She  shall  explain,  and  I  know,  I  know 
I  shall  find  her  the  very  incarnation  of  goodness  and 
truth." 

He  turned  and  approached  his  dwelling.  How  stately 
it  looked  in  the  brilliant  light.  The  graceful  balco 
nies,  the  grouped  windows,  the  open  arcade,  the  statue 
and  vase-bordered  terraces,  all  indicated  the  gay  and 
sunny  social  temperature  of  *a  summer  residence.  How 
sensitively  alive  he  was  to  aesthetic  surroundings  he  had 
displayed  in  the  picture-gallery,  adorned  with  some  won 
derful  selections  which  he  had  cautiously  made  during 
his  Continental  stay.  Then  the  well-planned  library, 
the  conservatory,  all  showed  the  direction  of  his  artistic 
tastes.  His  dignified  love  of  leisure  and  repose  had 
found  expression  in  the  cool  and  spacious  verandas 
which  he  had  added  immediately  on  his  arrival.  He 


THE  SHADOW  77 

had  brought  home  with  him  a  cultivated  perception  of 
truthful  beauty  and,  so  far  as  he  could,  he  had  improved 
a  villa,  already  the  exponent  of  a  refined  architectural 
discernment. 

He  now  gazed  affectionately  at  this  home,  which  had 
so  soon  become  a  vivid  interest  to  him,  and  noted  im 
mediately  that  through  the  broad,  rustic  lattice,  diauiond- 
paned  and  draped  with  honeysuckle,  which  faced  the 
sea,  came  a  soft,  golden  glow.  The  white  shade  was 
drawn,  and  to  his  surprise,  Ralfe  saw  upon  it  a  perfect 
silhouette.  "  Why,  that  is  Sybil's  room.  Can  she  be  up 
at  this  hour  ? "  he  thought,  as  he  eagerly  traced  the 
graceful  outline.  Very  soon  the  shadow  moved  and 
showed  Sybil  slightly  leaning  forward.  In  a  moment  he 
discovered  what  she  was  doing.  She  was  reading  a 
letter. 


78  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    VISONTI    SOLITAIRE. 

"  Speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings, 
As  thou  dost  ruminate  ;  and  give  thy  worst  of  thoughts 
The  worst  of  words." 

Othello. 

WHEN  Sybil  had  lain  herself  upon  her  soft  bed,  with 
a  pretty  amber  cigarette-holder  between  her  teeth,  and 
the  smoke  drifting  idly  out  of  the  diamond-paned  case 
ment,  which  she  had  opened,  she  slowly  went  over  in 
her  own  mind  the  events  which  had  brought  about  the 
stealing  of  Ealfe's  letter.  She  bluntly  called  it  stealing  in 
her  own  mind,  with  the  singular  frankness  to  themselves 
which  sometimes  belongs  to  people  who  are  anything  but 
candid  to  others.  The  edge  of  her  moral  sense  was  so 
turned  and  roughened  that  her  thoughts  of  others,  of 
events,  of  things  in  general,  took  on  a  brusque  practi 
cality  while,  in  contradistinction,  she  was  so  keenly  alive 
to  her  own  beauties,  so  absolutely  vain  and  sure  of  her 
physical  charms,  that  her  mind  became  an  unconscious 
homage  to  her  body,  and  the  very  sentences  of  her  brain, 
self-flattery.  She  smiled  now,  as  she  thought  of  the 
exploit,  with  the  satisfaction  of  one  who  has  accom 
plished  a  shrewd  manoeuvre. 

"  It  is  singular  to  me  what  can  have  become  of  father's 
money,"  the  train  of  her  thoughts  began.  "What  a 
glum  old  couple  they  were  —  mother  and  father !  They 
were  rich,  or  they  always  appeared  so,  and  now  what  a 
shabby  income  I  have  from  the  property.  What  is  two 


"THINKS  I  TO  MYSELF"  79 

thousand  dollars  a  year  for  me  ?  Why,  I  can  remember 
that  I  spent  that  at  sixteen.  They  were  indulgent  old 
folks.  Strange,  what  an  odd  make-up  I  am !  Now  I 
don't  believe  I  ever  felt  towards  my  mother  and  father 
as  other  girls  do.  I  liked  them,  but  they  were  so  dull, 
so  melancholy  always.  I  don't  remember  that  father 
ever  kissed  me  six  times  in  his  life.  The  older  I  grew, 
the  more  chronically  shocked  he  got.  I  was  a  madcap. 
And  mother  —  mother  was  a  sweet  old  woman,  but  some 
way  I  didn't  feel  as  if  I  could  mourn  much  about  her. 
I  am  hard-hearted,  except  when  I  love,  and  then  I  am 
cruel.  I  did  love  them  when  I  was  a  child,  but  I  never 
could  see  that  I  was  a  bit  like  either  of  them.  I  hated 
their  grandeur  and  courtly  etiquette.  I  preferred  to  play 
with  the  boys  in  the  street.  The  dark  closet  and  bread 
and  water  made  me  polite  —  and  a  liar. 

"I  suppose  they  ate  up  nearly  all  their  fortune  in  their 
fine  living,  leaving  me  some  paltry  remnants.  They  no 
doubt  supposed  I  should  marry.  Well,  the  miserable 
little  sum  comes  regularly,  thank  Heaven  !  What  an 
untroubled,  careless  life  I  led  until  I  left  school !  But  I 
was  not  so  stupid  as  Lu,  innocent  little  fool !  Yet,  what 
did  I  know  of  life  ?  Why,  I  was  the  '  model  scholar,' 
the  pattern  of  propriety,  ha,  ha  !  "  and  she  shook  with 
bitter  laughter  at  her  own  reflections.  "  That  is  how 
Helen  knew  me.  She  supposed  I  was  a  model  scholar 
now,  the  pink  of  convention,  no  doubt,  or  she  would  not 
have  invited  me.  If  she  had  dreamed  I  knew  Paris  from 
palace  to  hovel !  What  a  tame,  proper,  milk-and-water 
creature  she  is  !  She  hasn't  spirit  enough  to  say  her  soul 
is  her  own.  I  have  little  to  fear  from  her.  But  she's 
generous,  which  is  convenient.  Just  give  her  a  hint,  and 
she  gives  you  the  spoil.  She  is  beautiful,  in  her  way. 
But  she  has  no  art,  no  style,  and  such  natural  grace  is  so 
horribly  commonplace  nowadays.  Then  she  is  so  dull.  I 


80  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

suppose  she  is  religious,  although  she  never  says  anything 
about  it.  How  the  men  respect  her  !  They  never  say 
one  word  before  her  that  an  angel  might  not  hear.  But 
men  don't  love  these  doses  of  cold  water.  Oh,  these 
conventional,  calm,  selfish  hypocrites  of  women,  so  good, 
so  churchy  good,  — they  take,  as  wives,  with  some  men. 
They  softly  steal  into  the  masculine  confidence  on  their 
merits.  Merits  !  I  hate  the  word.  It  makes  me  think 
of  the  rewards  of  merit  she  would  slip  into  my  hand 
and  make  me  carry  home  from  school,  when  I  had  lost 
every  one  of  mine  by  my  downright  mischief.  So  she 
was  marked  down,  and  I  got  the  prizes.  That  shows  she 
was  a  fool,  even  as  a  child.  She  said  she  loved  me, 
pooh  !  I  suppose  she  has  revelled  in  an  inner  conscious 
ness  of  her  '  goodness  '  ever  since.  She  is  just  that  kind. 
She  leads  an  irreproachable  life  because  it  pays  her  in 
secret  self-complacency.  It  is  all  selfishness,  come  to 
the  bottom  of  it. 

"  And  as  for  Kalfe  —  well,  as  he  is  worth  a  couple  of 
hundred  thousand  for  each  letter  of  his  name,  I  think  I 
will  pursue  what  I  have  begun.  She  will  not  be  so  likely 
to  hand  over  that  prize  to  me.  But  it  is  worth  a  strug 
gle.  She  will  have  her  own  money,  and  that  adorer  of 
hers  —  Sardia  —  can  console  her  for  her  loss.  Ah,  this 
dear,  accommodating  country  of  mine !  where  a  slight 
incompatibility  of  temper,  a  well-worked-up  flirtation,  a 
simple  charge  of  abuse,  backed  by  a  still  simpler  little 
tribute  of  friendly  feeling  to  the  judge  in  the  way  of 
Government  bonds,  for  instance,  can  brush  away  like  a 
cobweb  those  holy,  pure,  sacred  legal  bonds  that  make  up 
marriage. 

"  Marriage,  bah !  Who  would  be  tied  to  it  for  any  con 
sideration  but  cash  ?  Julian  didn't  want  marriage,  and 
I  didn't  want  Julian,  after  the  first  fools'  paradise.  I 
fear  his  fatherly  influence  would  be  anything  but  ad  van- 


"I'LL   RISK   IT!"  81 

tageous  to  my  —  Good  Heavens  !  why  cannot  I  keep  my 
thoughts  in  order  ?  I  could  once.  Ah,  it  is  just  as  well, 
my  handsome,  enraged  Julian,  that  you  turned  up  at  so 
apropos  a  moment,  and  sent  back  this  letter  for  me,  torn 
and  open ;  that  you  vowed  I  belonged  to  you  body  and 
soul ;  that  you  were  my  master,  and  no  other  man  should 
dare  to  intrude  upon  your  rights  !  It  was  just  as  well, 
my  cruel,  haughty  Julian,  that  you  prevented  me  from 
making  an  honorable  marriage  then,  without  the  million. 
But  can  you  stop  me  now  ?  Can  you  prevent  it  now  ?  " 

A  slow,  triumphant  smile  swept  over  her  face. 

"  And  yet  the  dear  old  boy  was  the  only  man  worth 
having.  He  tossed  me  a  thousand  francs  or  ten  sous 
with  equal  nonchalance.  He  was  a  savage  creature.  I 
loved  him  for  it.  His  temper  was  like  a  great  whirl 
wind.  I  felt  swept  away  in  it.  How  his  eyes  flashed, 
and  then,  how  he  caressed  me  !  But  poverty  —  the  hor 
rid  changeful  life  —  life  in  a  trunk  !  Now  here,  now 
there,  sometimes  high,  sometimes  low,  the  gambling  and 
the  men  about  town  —  faugh !  I  endured  it  long 
enough !  Respectability  henceforth,  Visonti.  Respecta 
bility,  and  —  luxury  !  I  hardly  know  which  was  the 
best  luck  to-night,  to  get  the  letter  or  to  have  surprised 
Ralfe  with  a  soft  kiss  on  his  forehead  as  I  intended. 
But  the  interview  shall  come,  and  perhaps  under  still 
better  circumstances.  He  was  reading  the  letter,  so  was 
thinking  of  me,  and  finished  his  dreaming  in  the  garden, 
no  doubt.  He  trembles  lest  I  do  not  love  him  ;  he  mar 
vels  why  I  am  here ;  he  is  getting  even  more  wild  than 
ever  before.  It  is  just  as  well  to  play  him  a  little.  He  is 
gamey  enough  to  make  pleasant  sport.  He  loves  me, 
and  I  love  nobody  but  myself  and  my  —  my  cigarette's 
out !  I  will  not  break  my  own  rules." 

She  remained  quiet  for  a  long  time,  looking  straight 
before  her  without  seeing  anything,  her  mind  became  so 


82  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

thoroughly  absorbed  in  the  next  thought  that  presented 
itself  —  the  Princess  Menshikoff.  A  thousand  specula 
tions,  plots,  plans,  evasions,  diplomacies  to  outwit  and 
baffle  her  evident  enmity,  crowded  that  busy  brain.  But 
at  last,  with  a  characteristic  reckless  courage,  she 
exclaimed  to  herself,  "  There  is  time  enough  when  she 
strikes  !  "  For  out  of  her  past  came  up  memories  of 
many  situations  when  a  sudden  inspiration  had  carried 
her  as  safely  along  as  if  she  had  planned  it  all  for  years ; 
and  now  she  determinedly  dismissed  her  anxieties  with 
an  "  I'll  risk  it !  "  and  glancing  around  the  room,  "  Ah  !  " 
she  yawned,  "  this  is  a  good  bed,"  and  slipping  her  hand 
under  the  pillow  to  be  sure  the  letter  was  safe,  she 
kicked  the  downy  covering  more  comfortably  over  her 
little  feet?  and  stretched  out  her  limbs  in  the  very  epi 
curism  of  indolent  and  sensuous  pleasure.  Soon  she 
slept.  Soft,  silver  rays  crept  in  to  steal  steadily  up  the 
lithe,  graceful  brown  arm ;  to  touch  the  rich  lace  and 
creamy  ribbons  at  the  throat ;  to  glisten  on  the  glossy  black 
hair ;  to  light  up  the  strangely  expressive  countenance. 
But  they  seemed  to  shudder  and  go  out  as  they  fell  upon 
the  mouth  —  the  dropping  under  lip,  rolled  out  and 
heavy,  the  wicked  dark  shadows  of  it  as  it  slightly 
parted.  A  cloud  had  hidden  the  moon. 


WHAT  THE  MOON  HAD  SEEK  83 


CHAPTER    XII. 
A  WOMAN'S  HAND. 

"  While  overhead  the  moon  sits  arbitress." 

Milton. 

How  that  same  moon  which  now  for  an  instant  hid 
her  face  in  the  clouds,  had  followed,  followed,  followed 
Sybil  around  the  world !  How  many  places  had  been 
full  of  serene  moonlight,  when  her  heart  was  mad  with 
gay  revels,  dark  with  despair,  or  defiant  of  fate  !  How 
it  had  looked  upon  her  when  she  came  from  stately  ball 
rooms,  wrapped  in  her  ermines,  and  ready  to  step  into  a 
carriage  like  a  jewel-box !  How  it  had  stared  at  her 
coldly  and  sarcastically  when  she  had  flitted  along  the 
uneven  alleys  of  the  foreign  city  where  she  had  hidden 
name  and  shame  !  How  it  had  laughed  and  jeered  at  her 
as  she  had  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  great  steamer,  home 
ward  bound,  after  years  of  a  life  filled  to  overflowing 
with  incidents  which  finally  had  brought  her  to  this  last 
and  greatest  venture  !  How  it  shone  now  upon  the 
graves  of  those  old  people,  who,  buried  in  a  land  foreign 
to  them,  rested  beneath  a  proud  Italian  marble,  carved 
with  the  record  of  their  nobility,  their  goodness,  and 
their  family  fame  !  Strange  representative  of  a  stately 
name  !  She  sometimes  felt  an  alien  and  plebeian  pro 
test  steal  into  her  veins,  against  the  necessity  for  con 
tinuing  in  her  person  the  conditions  of  her  race.  "  I 
sometimes  wish  I  had  come  of  common  stock,"  she  had 
once  petulantly  exclaimed  to  Julian,  whom  nothing  ever 
shocked ;  "  I  wish  I  had  not  been  hampered  with  this 


84  SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

name,  so  old  and  grand  !  It  limits  me  so  !  Don't  you 
see  ?  I  feel  as  if  in  bondage  to  my  own  cognomen,  or 
to  those  fine  ancestors  of  mine  whom  I  solely  stand  for. 
I  bear  about  with  me  something  besides  myself.  I  am 
saddled  with  the  virtues  of  ancient  ladies  and  the  honor 
of  old  heroes  !  If  my  doings  are  found  out,  I  not  only 
ruin  myself,  but  blot  forever  the  escutcheon  of  the  Vison- 
tis.  We  must  be  a  thousand  times  more  careful  than  as 
if  I  were  nobody.  And  what  advantage  is  it  after  all  ? 
Perhaps  it  is  my  American  education,  perhaps  my  natu 
ral  depravity,  but  I  can't  see  any  good  in  an  old  name, 
excepting  the  money,  worldly  esteem  and  position,  which 
accompany  it." 

"  You  are  not  proud,  then,  of  the  character  which  your 
forefathers  must  have  possessed  to  have  gained  their 
honors  ?  "  answered  Julian,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

"  Character  ?  No.  All  I  am  proud  of  or  care  for  is 
what  accrues  to  my  benefit  at  this  moment.  That  is 
what  the  old  fellows  were  made  for  !  "  and  she  smiled 
with  pleasure  at  her  own  irreverence,  for  she  fully 
believed  it.  Her  parents  had  indeed  been  wealthy  and 
liberal.  They  were  aristocratic,  reserved,  well-bred.  Of 
pure  and  ancient  lineage,  they  had,  like  many  titled 
Italians,  found  themselves  the  last  of  a  race  whose  for 
tunes  had  dwindled,  until  now,  only  a  dim  and  dreary 
palace  in  Venice,  stripped  of  its  fair  belongings,  and  of 
necessity  rented  from  basement  to  roof  to  a  miscella 
neous  collection  of  foreigners,  remained.  They  dropped 
their  titles  and  came  to  America.  Here  was  a  new  field, 
and  here  they  prospered.  One  dream  possessed  them, 
a  dream  never  to  be  realized,  —  the  restoration  of  the 
old  palace,  and  the  resuming  of  somewhat  of  the  splen 
dor  of  ancient  days. 

Once  when  she  was  a  child,  Sybil  had  crossed  the 
ocean  and  journeyed  with  them  to  their  beloved  Venice. 


ESCAPADES  85 

Once  had  she  tarried  for  a  brief  period  in  the  home 
of  the  Visontis.  Never  had  she  seen  her  parents  so 
sad  as  when  there.  Never  had  they  seemed  so  myste 
rious.  But  she  was  a  child,  and  the  impression  faded. 
Then,  just  at  the  end  of  her  Convent  life,  they  had 
died,  almost  together,  and  she  had  been  left  at  nine 
teen  without  a  living  relative.  Made  mistress  of  a  small 
income  by  the  executors  of  her  father's  property,  chap 
eroned  by  a  fashionable  widow,  she  had  gone  abroad, 
and  her  beauty,  wit,  accomplishments  and  name  had 
won  for  her  the  admiration  and  homage  her  insatiable 
and  ever-present  vanity  craved.  Then  came  the  meeting 
with  Julian  Savelli !  Escaping  from  the  gentle  espionage 
of  her  chaperone  one  day  in  the  Louvre,  and  ever  ready 
for  the  least  adventure  which  savored  of  the  forbidden, 
she  had  seen  him  gazing  at  her  with  undisguised  admira 
tion,  and  had  flirted  slyly  with  her  pretty  fan,  then  had 
dropped  it,  and  blushed  a  little  as  she  accepted  it  from  his 
hand  —  and  with  it  a  lifelong  bondage  to  bitter  memories  ! 
Oh,  the  wild  escapades  the  moonlight  saw  when  Mrs. 
Mellen,  an  invalid  at  all  times,  really  fell  ill  at  her 
hotel  and  could  no  longer  take  charge  of  her  young 
friend  !  The  meetings,  the  dinners,  the  trips  to  the 
country,  the  rides  and  walks  in  the  great  squares  and 
parks,  the  dainty  little  suppers,  a  thousand  times  more 
enjoyed  because  no  one  knew  or  dreamed  of  them. 
For,  who  and  what  was  Julian  ?  An  American  by  birth, 
he  said,  —  but  oh  !  the  passion  and  fire  and  fury  of  the 
Italian  blood  which  he  confessed  burned  in  his  veins ! 
Julian,  whose  life  was  the  life  of  a  gambler,  a  sport,  a 
roue,  whose  stories  of  adventurous  existence  in  this  gay, 
mad  Paris  made  her  quiver  with  delight,  —  he  could  show 
her  "  life  ! "  He  could  teach  her  the  "  go,"  the  "  vim  " 
of  the  only  existence  worth  a  —  short  word  !  He  refused 
to  be  introduced  to  her  "  set."  He  scorned  the  conveu- 


86  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

tionalities  of  the  American  colony  ;  he  despised  the  bond 
age  of  etiquette.  He  was  Bohemian,  and  he  snapped  his 
long  white*fingers  at  rules.  His  morals  were  as  broad 
as  —  the  world ;  his  idea  of  principle  — to  enjoy  himself ! 

Well  he  taught  the  easily  won  girl  the  code  of  his  ex 
istence.  She  eagerly  breathed  in  the  sophistries  of  his 
philosophy.  The  sudden  exigencies  of  his  changeable 
life  seemed  to  be  her  element.  To  elude,  to  watch,  to 
risk,  to  plan,  to  scheme,  and  to  trust  luck,  —  these  were 
the  lessons  her  acquaintance  with  Julian  taught  her,  and 
she  entered  into  the  amusements  he  favored  with  un 
guarded  enthusiasm.  The  moon  followed  this  surrepti 
tious  intercourse  with  a  watchful  eye,  and  soon  love, 
that  beautiful  and  sacred  word,  became  on  their  lips  a 
significant  sound. 

Then  came  the  sudden  death  of  Mrs.  Mellen.  Sybil 
excused  herself  from  returning  to  America  with  the 
remains  of  her  chaperone,  —  she  had  begun  to  study  for 
the  stage.  Xone  to  contradict  her,  none  to  interfere 
with  her,  writh  a  certain  amount  to  draw  upon  every 
three  months,  —  life  in  Paris  became  life  with  Julian. 
But  soon  the  moon  looked  down  upon  deceit,  jealousy, 
reproaches,  quarrels,  coldness,  and  at  last  desertion. 
Julian  had  ceased  to  find  her  quite  and  completely 
absorbed  in  himself.  She  had  profited  by  the  breadth 
and  looseness  of  the  limits  he  had  preached,  and  he 
found  her  applying  them  to  herself,  not  to  any  extent, 
but  enough  to  first  madden  and  then  disgust  him.  Even 
a  divided  smile  did  not  please  this  much-divided  lover. 
Besides,  there  were  consequences,  and  he  believed  in 
assuming  no  responsibilities.  He  was  engaged  in  a  lit 
tle  scheme  in  London,  and  to  London  he  went ;  first-class 
and  smiling. 

She  was  left  alone  in  great  fear  and  trouble.  She 
knew  what  it  was  to  tremble  at  night  and  to  weep  in  the 


HER  SILENT  TRIAL  87 

morning.  She  felt  the  uncompromising  and  stern  atmos 
phere  which  surrounds  the  guilty  press  on  her  heart 
and  crush  out  hope.  The  food  that  to  her  had  been  as 
luscious  as  honey,  had  shortly  become  as  bitter  as  gall, 
and  she  ate  it  in  sorrow  and  silence,  hiding  beneath  a 
gay  smile  the  horror  and  affright  of  her  racked  soul. 

She  had  long  ago  deserted  her  fashionable  associates,  on 
pretence  of  absolute  seclusion  for  the  sake  of  "  her  art." 
She  had  given  up  all,  everything,  for  this  handsome, 
impetuous,  terrible,  yet  fascinating  man.  And  now, 
where  should  she  go  ?  Where  could  she  hide  ?  To 
whom  could  she  appeal  ?  Back  to  America  ?  Never. 
There  she  was  still  the  true,  modest,  well-bred  girl  who 
had  left  them.  Stay  in  Paris  ?  Impossible.  Soon  one 
step  in  the  street,  and  she  might  be  detected.  Ah,  the 
old  Visonti  palace !  She  knew  of  no  one  whom  she  should 
fear  to  meet  there,  for  she  would  never  go  out  by  day, 
and  at  night  the  gondola  would  protect  her  from  observa 
tion.  She  packed  with  feverish  haste,  travelled  without 
a  pause.  Soon  she  was  established  in  a  little  apartment 
next  the  sky,  —  alone,  unknown,  uncared  for  by  any 
living  soul. 

Many  a  night  the  great  mellow  moon  of  Italy  rose 
and  glowed  through  the  high  stone  casement,  as  she 
sat  thinking,  planning  her  future,  —  many  a  time  it 
found  her  with  head  bowed  on  the  dark,  dimpled 
hands,  in  an  agony  of  tears.  Many  a  time  it  saw  her 
with  pale  face  and  frightened  eyes,  almost  ready  to 
appeal  to  the  first  woman  she  met  for  direction,  for  com 
fort  ;  and  then  the  determined  checking  of  desire,  and 
the  undaunted  will  which  bore  her  one  day  more  through 
her  silent  trial.  But  the  waiting  and  the  silence  brought 
to  her  no  repentance.  She  drew  no  lesson  from  her 
position  save  that  of  caution  and  concealment.  She 
only  hated  fate  and  the  world  and  Julian,  and  then 


88  SARDIA:   A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

longed  for  Julian  with  all  her  weary,  misguided 
mind. 

At  last  one  night,  when  the  great  silver  orb  seemed  to 
pursue  her  with  relentless  light,  she  came  up  the  wide 
and  winding  stair  of  the  Visonti  palace  heavily  and  as 
if  in  a  dream.  The  evening  sail  on  the  lagoon  had  been 
an  intoxication.  The  poetry  and  charm  of  the  lovely 
city  had  seemed  to  fill  her  spirit  with  rapturous  peace. 
Drifting  slowly  on  the  placid  waters,  over  which  mellow 
music  floated  like  an  invisible  mist  and  melted  into 
delicious  silence ;  where  lights  in  many  colors  were 
caught  and  reflected  as  trembling  jewels ;  listening  to 
the  tones  of  the  distant  bells  striking  the  hour,  she  had 
yielded  to  the  spell  and  half-forgotten,  for  once,  herself. 
But  now  as  she  climbed  the  stairs  she  began  to  pant  for 
breath.  Her  heart  seemed  ceasing  to  beat.  Her  head 
was  on  fire.  She  called  faintly,  and  then  fell.  When 
she  awoke  to  consciousness  she  found  herself  lying  upon 
a  gorgeous  bed  in  a  lofty  chamber,  surrounded  with  chat 
tering  women.  Sybil  had  never  ascertained,  had  indeed 
never  asked,  who  occupied  any  of  the  apartments.  She 
only  knew  that  the  establishment  of  a  titled  lady  occu 
pied  the  first  floor.  She  had  avoided  seeing  or  meeting 
any  one,  and  had  maintained  a  scrupulous  seclusion. 
But  now  opening  her  eyes,  she  saw  for  a  moment  a  face 
she  was  destined  never  to  forget.  She  closed  them  again 
in  utter  weariness.  She  was  gently  treated,  and  the 
women  seemed  kind.  She  could  ask  nothing  more.  Her 
mind  was  dull.  Her  brain  seemed  dormant.  She  be 
lieved  she  was  dying. 

Later  she  found  herself  in  her  own  apartment.  A 
French  nurse  was  attending  to  her  wants,  and  occasion 
ally  she  received  messages  through  her,  of  fruits,  flowers, 
and  pretty  gifts  from  the  generous  lady  who  had  pitied 
her  helplessness,  befriended  her  in  her  hour  of  direst 


FLIGHT  89 

need,  and  allowed  her  the  attention  of  her  own  servant 
with  all  the  goodness  of  a  mother. 

But  soon  came  a  more  formal  announcement.  Her 
benefactress  would,  with  her  permission,  call  upon  her. 
"Ah,"  Sybil  instantly  thought,  "  and  if  she  calls,  she  will 
question  me.  I  must  answer  her,  I  must  tell  my  story  !  " 
She  sent  word  that  in  a  few  days  she  should  feel  strong 
enough  to  receive  the  kindest  lady  in  all  the  world,  then 
set  about  avoiding  such  a  meeting.  Her  nurse  had  be 
trayed  an  intense  homesickness.  She  was  French,  pro 
vincial  and  longed  for  her  native  village.  But  she  was 
bound  to  her  mistress  by  ties  of  gratitude,  and  was  in  some 
respects  indispensable  to  her.  Sybil  easily  worked  upon 
her  feelings,  and  persuaded  her  that  to  go  away  silently, 
without  a  word,  would  be  the  easiest  way  to  reach  her 
longed-for  home.  She  bribed  her  to  accompany  her  to 
France,  and  promised  to  retain  her  in  her  service  on  her 
arrival.  Succeeding,  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  carry  out 
her  plan,  and  Sybil  returned  the  care,  the  goodness,  the 
unquestioning  benevolence  of  the  lady,  who  was  the 
Princess  Menshikoff,  with  flight.  Weak,  but  resolute, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  efficient  maid  she  had  thus  so 
conveniently  secured,  in  the  moonlight,  which  now 
seemed  to  mock  and  threaten  her,  she  stole  away  from 
the  old  Visonti  palace,  leaving  no  trace  behind. 

"Self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature,"  she 
coolly  said  to  herself,  as  she  glanced  back  at  the  fast- 
receding  lights  of  the  "  Bride  of  the  Sea."  "  Now  for 
the  lies  of  society,  the  shams  of  decorum,  and  the  bore 
dom  of  our  set.  I  shall  appear  with  a  quiet  companion. 
I  can  find  one  in  two  hours  in  dear  Paris  !  She  will  tell 
people  how  persistently  I  have  been  studying  under  an 
Italian  master.  She  will  say  how  proper,  how  self-con 
tained,  how  earnest  in  pursuit  of  art,  has  been  my  exist 
ence.  I  will  go  on  with  Delsarte,  and  if  I  do  not  find  an 


90  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

eligible  party  I  will  go  on  the  stage  in  earnest.  Money, 
money  !  I  must  and  will  have  it.  The  world  owes  it  to 
me,  and  shall  pay  it.  Am  I  not  beautiful  ?  Have  I  not 
wit  and  grace  and  culture  ?  For  what  was  I  born,  except 
ing  to  rule,  to  revel  in  all  the  enjoyments  of  earth  ?  Let 
the  ugly  and  ill-educated  plod !  Let  the  sallow-cheeked, 
heavy-eyed,  low-born,  stupid  sewing  woman  work  her 
ringers  to  the  bone  !  I  am  a  Visonti.  Yonder  is  the 
palace  of  my  ancestors  !  "  smothering  a  sardonic  grimace 
and  a  stinging  laugh  at  her  own  equivocal  relation  to  it. 
"  With  the  blood  of  the  Eomans  in  my  veins  I  should 
be  a  queen.  What  else  is  there  to  live  for  ?  Luxury  and 
power,  beautiful  dresses,  gay  parties,  my  carriage,  my 
bouquets,  —  with  these,  I  can  forget,  —  forget  and  bury 
my  past  in  a  sea  of  pleasure."  She  sat  motionless  for  a 
while,  watching  the  flying  landscape  as  the  train  rolled 
onward ;  then  with  a  fierce  light  in  her  eyes,  glancing  at 
the  maid  whose  face  was  buried  in  a  bundle  of  lace  and 
down,  she  murmured,  "  If  this  should  ever  be  known, 
every  woman's  hand  would  be  against  me.  Until  then, 
my  hand  shall  be  against  every  woman  !  " 


"MY   GUESTS  ARE  BROTHERS"  91 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
PRINCESS  MENSHIKOFF'S  RECEPTION. 

"  Dost  sometimes  counsel  take  —  and  sometimes  tea." 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock. 

"  Enjoy  your  dear  wit  and  gay  rhetoric." 

Comus. 

IN  a  few  days  after  the  hashish  party,  a  note  from 
Signor  Zante  announced  in  rather  lordly  fashion,  that  the 
Princess  Menshikoff  would  "  receive  "  the  following  even 
ing,  and  sent  a  general  invitation  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Field 
ing  and  their  guests.  "  You  know  the  eccentricities  of 
madame  the  princess,"  he  wrote,  in  an  apologetic  vein, 
"  she  never  goes  out  of  her  own  house  excepting  to  drive, 
and  her  drives  are  almost  invariably  in  the  evening  or 
at  night,  when  she  '  can  breathe  free  in  all  space,'  as  she 
calls  it.  But  to  her  undoubted  genius  perhaps  you  will 
accord  the  honor  of  your  presence,  since  she  is  sought  by 
the  distinguished  of  all  lands." 

Every  one  was  very  happy  to  accept  this  invitation, 
since  the  great  Russian  writer  had  become  a  constant 
topic  of  conversation  in  society  circles.  Her  rank,  her 
literary  reputation,  her  singular  religious  theories,  pro 
mulgated  with  a  fearlessness  and  frankness  verging  on 
what  was  "  horrible  "  and  "  shocking  "  to  Puritanic  prin 
ciples,  but  none  the  less  fascinating  for  that,  combined 
with  her  extreme  exclusiveness  and  the  superb  yet  odd 
appointments  of  her  establishment,  made  her  the  mys 
terious  delight  of  whispered  wonder  and  the  acme  of 
excitement  to  those  satiated  worldlings  who  had  ex- 


92  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

liausted  all  ordinary  amusements.  The  party  at  "  Spray 
View  "  felt  an  agreeable  interest  in  the  possibilities  of 
the  evening,  and  they  had  formed  an  impression  from  the 
"pupil"  of  the  princess,  which  exacted  deferential 
respect.  The  grave  and  courteous  dignity  of  the  "stu 
dent  of  ancient  Buddhism "  carried  with  it  a  profound 
sense  of  his  moral  excellence,  while  the  quiet  modesty 
of  his  bearing  imposed  on  them  no  check  to  their  accus 
tomed  pleasures. 

Sybil,  however,  announced  most  decidedly  that  she 
should  not  go.  She  sneeringly  alluded  to  the  "  rages  " 
and  "  crazes  "  which  carry  away  Americans  with  the  least 
novelty,  and  assumed  an  air  of  indifference  to  the  many 
speculations  and  imaginings  as  to  how  they  would  be 
entertained.  Sardia,  who  had  absented  himself  all  the 
morning,  came  in  while  the  discussion,  as  to  ho\v  they 
should  dress,  was  going  on  among  the  ladies.  Helen 
appealed  to  him. 

"  The  princess  being  an  old  friend  of  Sir  Sardia,  he 
must  know  positively  what  would  be  appropriate  to 
attend  one  of  her  receptions.  Does  she  require  full 
dress  in  her  august  presence  ?  or  in  deference  to  her 
nationality,  shall  we  assume  the  Russian  costume  ? " 
She  playfully  laughed. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  dress  precisely  as  you  please  !  She 
will  never  know  if  you  are  in  gold  cloth  or  common  print. 
For  herself,  her  costume  is  invariably  the  same  excepting 
in  choice  of  material, — the  flowing  sleeve,  loose  gown, 
sandals,  and  mitts,  with  sometimes  a  silk  or  velvet  cap,  or 
even  Turkish  fez,  whenever  she  happens  to  think  of  it ! 
There  is  not  the  least  formality.  You  go  and  leave 
when  you  please,  and  examine  all  her  curious  things 
without  the  slightest  conventionality.  '  My  guest  can 
take  no  liberty  in  my  house,'  is  one  of  her  mottoes ;  and 
I  assure  you,  ladies,  her  mind  and  her  heart  are  as  open, 


"YOU  WILL  GO"  93 

as  free,  and  as  generous,  as  the  liberty  she  loves.  We 
will  all  drop  in  as  we  find  it  convenient.  The  only  thing 
she  desires  is,  that  every  one  shall  talk,  and  that  there 
shall  be  no  formal  introductions.  '  My  guests  are  equal,' 
and  <  My  guests  are  brothers,'  I  have  often  heard  her  say. 
Oh,  yes  !  I  must  remind  you  that  if  a  Russian  offers  you 
a  cigarette  it  is  the  most  insulting  breach  of  etiquette  if 
you  refuse  it,  so  by  all  means  take  a  puff  or  two,  out  of 
respect  to  the  custom.  Miss  Sybil,  you  will  not  object  ?  " 
smiling  at  her  pleasantly. 

"I  do  not  smoke, — but  then,  I  am  not  going,"  she 
answered  carelessly. 

Lulu  looked  duTnbfounded. 

"  Do  you  never  smoke  ?  "  she  whispered  significantly. 

"Mind  your  own  p's  and  q's  you  little  Pinafore  !  "  she 
replied,  but  flushed  enough  to  betray  herself. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will  go,  I  think,"  remarked  Sardia  in  a 
musing  way,  as  he  watched  without  comprehending  this 
little  by-play.  Then  he  repeated,  looking  her  straight  in 
the  eyes,  "  You  will  go  I  am  sure." 

And  strange  to  say,  when  night  came,  she  had  lan 
guidly  concluded  that  after  all  there  might  be  some 
amusement  to  be  gained  in  talking  to  this  titled  stranger. 
Her  superciliousness  and  lack  of  interest  were  charming 
to  Ealfe,  whose  ideal  of  womanly  grace  was  repose.  He 
did  not  realize  that  the  true  quality  he  admired  was 
repose  of  spirit,  from  which  spring  the  abiding  harmo 
nies  and  beauties  of  human  nature.  The  semblance  of  it 
in  manner,  to  his  infatuated  judgment,  was  sufficient. 

On  arriving  at  the  cottage  the  party  were  astonished 
at  the  absence  of  lights  streaming  from  the  windows. 
The  house  was  quiet  and  dark,  only  a  glimmer  here  and 
there  indicating  occupancy.  But  Sardia  assured  them 
that  they  would  find  the  princess  at  home ;  and  pressing 
an  electric  bell,  the  door  opened  as  it  were  of  its  own 


94  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

accord,  and  they  were  ushered  into  a  smaller  compart 
ment  which,  in  all  but  atmosphere,  breathed  of  a  polar 
winter.  Soft  white  bearskins,  couches,  and  hangings  of 
richest  white  tapestries  and  plush,  made  it  a  seeming 
snow  bower,  while  the  clear  glow  of  an  amber  light  shed 
a  subdued  radiance  over  the  whole.  A  woman  dressed 
in  the  costume  of  a  Russian  peasant  assisted  them  with 
their  light  wraps,  while  Sardia  put  the  gentlemen  in 
charge  of  Signor  Zante's  man,  who  happened  to  be 
present.  Laughter  and  the  thrumming  of  some  stringed 
instrument  came  from  the  drawing-room,  and  when  they 
entered,  a  few  guests,  some  of  whom  were  known  to 
them,  rose  or  turned  and  gave  a  general  greeting. 

The  princess  was  enveloped  in  a  robe  of  rich  yellow 
satin,  which  was  lined  with  black  brocaded  silk,  embroid 
ered  deeply  with  rare  Persian  colors  along  the  edges, 
and  held  by  a  cord  and  immense  tassels  of  knotted  silks 
studded  with  precious  stones.  Nothing  could  impress 
one  with  more  simplicity,  yet  the  wonderful  quality  of 
the  fabric  was  worthy  of  the  wearer.  Her  small  expres 
sive  hands  with  their  untiring  gestures  were  ornamented 
with  but  one  stone, — a  sapphire  of  immense  size  and 
beauty,  carved  intaglio  with  the  asp,  crown,  and  tau  of 
her  crest. 

By  her  side  was  a  little  table  on  which  stood  a  massive 
samovar,  of  a  rough  gray  ware  bound  and  lined  with 
beaten  gold,  under  which  the  blue  flame  of  a  spirit-lamp 
danced  and  flickered.  The  fragrant  steam  of  the  tea 
mingled  itself  with  the  little  puffs  of  Turkish  tobacco 
which  issued  from  her  mouth  as  she  deftly  arranged 
glasses  clear  as  air,  but  tinted  all  shades  and  colors, 
and  dishes  of  little  cakes  unlike  anything  they  had  ever 
seen. 

"  Yes,  yes  ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  if  continuing  a  conver 
sation  interrupted  by  their  entrance.  "  To  me  the  sexes 


MADAME'S   MARRIAGE  95 

are  utterly  indifferent.  Spirit  is  spirit,  whether  it  be  in 
man  or  woman,  bird  or  donkey.  I  like  people  for  what 
they  are  in  soul,  not  because  they  wear  a  coat  or  a  robe  ;  " 
continuing  to  busily  prepare  the  tea.  "  You  Americans, 
no  doubt,  will  want  a  little  sweet.  Here  is  the  honey ; 
but  only  one  drop,  one  drop  ! "  warningly.  "  My  dear 
madame,"  turning  graciously  to  Helen,  "  will  you  drink 
with  me  ?  This  tea  will  exhilarate  us.  We  can  talk. 
Ah,  you  like  it ! "  as  pleased  as  a  child. 

"But  you  could  not  always  have  liked  people  irre 
spective  of  sex,  could  you  ?  "  questioned  Kalfe,  who  had 
taken  up  the  idea.  "  Do  you  love  no  one  ?  " 

"  I  love,  —  I,  a  woman  of  seventy,  love  !  "  energetically. 

"  But  in  your  youth." 

"This  is  my  youth.  Some  of  my  ancestors  lived,  hale 
and  hearty,  to  be  one  hundred  and  thirty  years  old.  It 
is  in  the  historical  records  of  our  family.  But,  no ; 
I  always  hated  men.  No ;  I  never  loved  in  my  life.  I 
could  riot.  I  am  incapable  of  partiality.  I  know  noth 
ing  about  it.  To  love  implies  personal  preference ; " 
and  she  puffed  a  vigorous  rebuttal  from  her  tightened 
lips. 

"  Yet  you  married,"  said  Sardia. 

"  Married  !  Yes ;  and  how  ?  At  sixteen.  Against 
my  will ;  forced  to  it  by  scoldings,  threatenings,  and 
persuasions.  Married  to  an  old  man,  —  old  enough  to 
be  my  grandfather ;  a  vile  creature  —  faugh !  because 
he  had  money.  But  I  paid  them  back.  I  protected  my 
self.  I  crept  under  my 'grandmother's  couch  as  soon  as 
we  came  back  from  the  church.  I  found  a  keen  stiletto, 
and  declared  if  they  came  near  me  I  would  kill  myself. 
I  shall  never  forget  my  old  nurse  and  my  grandmother 
kneeling  and  praying  in  their  satin  wedding-dresses  on 
the  floor  beside  me,  while  I  curled  myself  up  in  one  cor 
ner  under  the  couch  like  a  kitten.  But  I  would  not  come 


96  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF   LOVE 

out.  Hunger  drove  me  out  in  a  day  or  two,  but  they  saw 
I  was  desperate.  They  let  me  alone  three  weeks,  and 
then,  after  being  utterly  worn  out  by  their  entreaties,  I 
was  persuaded  to  go  to  the  old  prince's  palace.  Did  I  not 
lead  him  a  life  ?  My  savage  scorn,  my  insults,  my  horror 
of  him,  he  called  '  pretty  childish  petulance.'  I  taught 
him  I  was  a  tigress.  I  struck  him,  and  one  day,  goaded 
to  fury,  I  caught  up  a  large  silver  candelabra  and  flung  it 
at  him,  knocking  him  down.  I  hoped  I  had  killed  him. 
I  rushed  out,  hailed  a  sledge,  and  rode  as  far  as  the 
gates,  and  then  procured  a  horse  and  galloped  across 
country  to  my  grandfather's  house.  I  demanded  protec 
tion.  I  got  it.  That  ended  it." 

In  her  vehement  and  dramatic  gestures,  and  the  force- 
fulness  and  earnestness  of  this  story,  she  seemed  to  live 
it  all  over  again.  Yet  at  the  end  she  laughed.  They 
all  laughed  too. 

Guy  drawled  in  his  slow,  diverted  way,  — 

"  I  supposed  you  would  say  the  prince  demanded  pro 
tection.  What  became  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  He  was  dead  long  ago.  The  worms 
have  him,  thank  Christu  ! "  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

The  tea  was  certainly  animating.  In  all  corners  of 
the  apartment  could  be  heard  bright  and  earnest  conver 
sation.  Many  were  foreign,  or  could  speak  several 
languages,  so  one  standing  silent  would  be  surprised  at 
the  conglomeration  of  sounds.  Beginning  a  sentence  in 
French,  the  princess  would  frequently  finish  it  in  Eus- 
sian  or  English  or  Italian,  as  she  turned  to  Signor  Zante> 
Helen,  or  Sybil,  whose  Italian  was  as  beautifully  correct 
as  that  of  those  who  speak  the  unadulterated  music  of 
Dante. 

If  the  Princess  Menshlkoff  had  ever  known  Sybil 
before  this  evening,  neither  gave  the  least  sign.  And 
although  a  wary  and  attentive  look  frequently  crossed  the 


PESSIMISM  97 

latter's  face,  which  was  singularly  pale  and  mysteriously 
attractive  to  Ralfe,  her  manner  was  tinctured  with  a 
certain  pride  which  rendered  her  even  more  fascinating. 
The  unconscious  courtesy,  which  seemed  to  be  the  only 
possible  atmosphere  of  this  "Bohemian"  house,  was 
extended  to  her,  with  neither  more  nor  less  attention 
than  that  given  to  the  others. 

Ralfe  still  referred  to  the  topic  which  first  interested 
him.  He  turned  to  Signor  Zante  and  remarked,  — 

"  Our  hostess  in  denying  love  for  mankind  seems  to 
advocate  a  pessimistic  philosophy  which  tends  to  have 
a  depressing  effect  on  me.  Naturally  the  philosophy  of 
persons  and  things,  offered  by  so  distinguished  a  thinker, 
must  echo  more  or  less  loudly  in  any  mind.  'Facts  are 
facts,'  I  know,  but  they  may  be  interpreted  rightly  or 
misinterpreted.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  believe  it 
to  be  just  as  absurd  to  have  no  faith  at  all  in  humanity 
as  to  have  absolute  faith  in  it.  Nature  has  given  us  the 
power  of  discrimination,  and  a  philosophy  which  is  all 
pessimistic  is  as  vicious  and  insufficient  as  one  that  is 
all  optimism." 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  the  signor  gravely,  "  by  the  con 
templation  of  evil,  we  insist  on  the  assimilation  of  our 
minds  with  the  bad  aspects  of  life  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  elements  that  might  be  agreeable  to  our  finer  and 
more  beneficent  traits.  But  the  princess  spoke  in  the 
personal,  not  the  general  sense,  I  am  sure." 

Attracting  her  attention  he  said,  "  Madame,  you  have 
given  the  impression  to  Mr.  Fielding  that  you  have  a 
pessimistic  view  of  humanity,  because  you  cannot  love. 
But  I  do  not  discover  in  you  that  morbidity  which 
prevents  that  nice  discrimination  between  right  and 
wrong,  which  has  been  singular  to  you ; "  and  he 
smiled. 

"  I  pessimistic  !  "  she  exclaimed,  gravely.     "  Not  so 


98  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

much  !  not  so  much  !  He  who  has  a  cold,  raw,  merciless 
theory  of  life  is  not  possessed  of  a  wholesome,  elevated, 
and  strong  mind." 

"  And  who  bitterly  believes  there  is  no  sweetness  in 
existence,  cannot  possess  sweet  and  beautiful  attributes 
of  character,"  added  Ralfe.  "  There  is  no  affinity  exist 
ing  between  him  and  the  better  part.  He  is  a  dead  and 
decayed  portion  of  the  great,  complicated  system  of  the 
universe,  and  he  and  not  the  system  will  be  cast  off  by 
inexorable  law." 

Helen  had  been  listening  to  this  conversation  with 
cheeks  flushing  and  paling  with  excitement.  "  My  dear 
sir,"  she  addressed  Ralfe  formally,  "  it  does  not  do  to 
speak  of  any  individual  from  one  side  only.  If  a  man 
is  cold  and  hopeless,  if  he  doubts  the  goodness  of  human 
nature,  if  he  speaks  bitterly  of  the  selfishness  of  his 
kind,  if  he  seems  raw  and  merciless  and  predicts  an  ex 
tinction  of  a  race  he  seems  to  hate,  ask  him  what  made 
him  so.  Find  out  what  trials  he  has  been  through.  See 
if  his  childhood  was  sad,  gloomy,  and  restrained.  In 
quire  if  his  young  manhood  was  harsh,  unfriended,  and 
disappointing ;  then  go  back  to  his  parents  and  see  what 
black  blood  of  hereditary  vices  they  poured  into  his  in 
nocent  and  helpless  veins.  Then  you  may  say  that  he 
shall  be  cast  off,  and  the  universe  of  matter  and  being 
shall  go  on,  if  you  think  just,  and  perhaps  he  will  be 
cast  off;  but  again,  perhaps  he  will  be  taken  into  the 
pitiful  bosom  of  the  Supreme  Power,  and  covered  and 
sheltered  by  the  almighty  hollow  of  God's  merciful 
hand." 

They  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  for  her  deep  eyes 
were  moist  with  unshed  tears.  Sardia  gave  her  a  sympa 
thetic  glance.  "  Maybe  she  knows  some  one  whom  she 
is  secretly  defending,"  he  thought. 

The  princess  nodded  approvingly  towards  her.     "Let 


A  TRUE   INCIDENT  99 

us  not  cherish  pessimism,"  she  said ;  "  and  yet  let  us  re 
member  that  the  world  is  made  up  of  two  words,  '  bitter, 
sweet.'  I  cannot  quite  agree  with  Mr.  Fielding  that  a  char 
acter  like  that  which  he  describes  is  incapable  of  assimi 
lating  fine  and  beautiful  things,  or  that  it  is  necessarily 
devoid  of  original  excellences.  He  need  not  be  wholly 
deaf,  dumb,  and  dead  to  the  glories  of  those  laws  which 
work  so  steadily.  Truly,  I  cannot  consign  him  to  obliv 
ion  and  annihilation  with  that  cool  assumption  that  one 
or  the  other  '  must  go,'  as  they  say  in  your  California  of 
the  Chinese  ! "  and  she  smiled  pleasantly  towards  Ralfe, 
who,  although  half  defeated,  smiled  back. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Helen  more  quietly,  looking 
with  grateful  eyes  at  madame,  "  that  even  dead  matter 
(if  it  be  dead)  has  in  it  elements  of  mercy  as  well  as 
laws  of  inexorable  justice ;  else  why  does  Nature  grow 
roses  out  of  a  dung-heap  and  wear  away  her  adamantine 
rocks  with  her  softly  flowing  streams  ?  Surely,  from 
the  very  ground  we  can  draw  lessons  of  material  benefi 
cence  !  For  it  casts  off  nothing,  but  takes  us  in  our  cor 
ruption,  and  hides  us  away  with  a  loving  tenderness, 
only  at  last  to  transform  our  foetidness  into  the  delicate 
fragrance  of  the  violets  which  cover  our  graves." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  Sardia,  quietly,  "that 
the  difference  between  the  philosophical  creeds  of  Mr- 
and  Mrs.  Fielding  is  that  hers  turns  constantly  around 
the  individual  as  the  centre  of  a  broad  circle,  whereas 
he  sees  the  individual  as  a  point  on  the  circumference." 

"  It  is  well  to  be  in  a  country  where  women  may  be 
allowed  an  opinion  at  all,"  remarked  the  princess,  lightly, 
"and  truly  you  are  so  independent  —  such  queens  of 
your  houses  here  —  so  sure  of  deference !  Even  the 
young  girls  seem  to  rule  their  own  lives." 

One  of  the  guests  whose  eyes  twinkled  with  amuse 
ment  replied,  "  Yes,  I  happen  to  know  a  true  story  of  an 


100  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

American  girl,  —  the  incident  occurring  quite  recently. 
Now  rnind  you,  we  are  speaking  strictly  of  the  individual. 
There  is  no  general  application.  A  friend  of  mine  who 
happens  to  be  the  most  eligible  catch  in  one  of  the  great 
Western  cities,  and  who  persists  in  remaining  a  bachelor, 
although  for  at  least  twelve  years  he  has  been  besieged 
with  matronly  and  girlish  attention,  not  feeling  in  ex 
cellent  health  went  to  the  Hot  Springs  in  the  season. 
There  he  saw  a  beautiful  young  girl,  fresh  as  a  rose,  ex 
quisitely  dressed  and  surrounded  with  lovers.  She  was 
so  young,  sweet,  and  childlike,  seemingly  without  a 
worldly  idea,  that  his  seared  heart  stirred  within  him, 
and  he  felt  a  strange  longing  to  read  her  innocent  heart. 
He  was  soon  introduced  and  hesitatingly  requested 
her  to  take  a  little  stroll  with  him.  She  took  out  her 
tiny  watch,  studied  the  time  a  moment,  and  said,  '  Well, 
I'm  engaged  at  four  and  engaged  at  six,  but  I  could  give 
you  an  hour  at  five.'  The  delighted  mamma  smiled 
approval,  and  so  it  was  settled. 

"When  the  time  came  they  went  a  little  way  from  the 
hotel,  and  sat  down  under  a  tree.  He  flung  himself  at  her 
feet  and  began  to  talk.  But  she  did  not  seem  to  respond. 
He  tried  art,  amusements,  the  opera,  the  springs,  and  even 
flirtation,  in  vain,  until  he  finally  said,  in  his  softest  tones, 
kissing  the  tips  of  her  pretty  glove  with  considerable  en 
thusiasm,  'Tell  me  all  about  your  own  sweet  self,'  thinking 
that,  being  a  woman,  that  topic  at  least  would  interest 
her.  She  looked  him  very  pleasantly  in  the  eyes,  then, 
dropping  her  lashes,  said,  '  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what 
I  can  tell  you  about  myself.  There  isn't  much  to  tell 
—  but'  —  cheerfully  and  earnestly,  'I  can  give  you 
the  very  best  of  references.''  —  '  My  dear  child,'  said  the 
eligible  gently,  as  soon  as  he  could  catch  his  breath, 
'  your  youth  and  beauty  are  quite  sufficient  references 
for  what  I  may  require  of  you,'  and  escorted  her  back 


LAUGHTER  101 

to  her  six-o'clock  engagement.  He  afterwards  remarked 
dryly  that  she  could  easily  have  invented  a  new  idea 
which  would  save  considerable  trouble.  A  young  lady 
should  have  printed  on  her  card,  besides  her  name,  the 
name  of  her  banker,  her  family  physician,  and  any  dis 
tinguished  ancestor  whom  she  chose,  with  the  name  of 
her  pastor,  so  that  a  man  could  see  at  a  glance  what  sort 
of  a  wife  she  would  make  and  whether  she  would  do." 

It  was  impossible  not  to  be  merry  over  this  "  o'er  true 
tale,"  and  the  princess,  who  had  been  "  studying  "  every 
body  and  every  word,  laughed  outright.  To  say  she 
laughed,  was  the  same  as  to  say  "  Laughter  was  present," 
for  of  all  clear,  mirthful,  rollicking  laughter,  hers  was  the 
essence.  She  seemed,  indeed,  the  Genius  of  the  mood 
she  displayed  at  all  times,  so  intense  was  her  vitality. 
She  now  exclaimed,  "  Ah,  you  Americans  !  How  spick 
and  span  you  are  ! " 

" '  Spick  and  span  ! '  "  cried  every  one,  amused ;  "  why, 
what  can  she  mean  ?  " 

"Why,  queer,  droll,  brand-new,  fresh,  fire-new,  origi 
nal,"  said  she.  "I  hunted  all  those  words  up  this  very 
day,  and  'spick  and  span'  means  each.-  All  your  say 
ings  are  so  'bright,'"  she  went  on  enthusiastically,  "  but 
sometimes  you  drop  your  letters  in  a  curious  way. 
Now  the  other  clay  I  noticed  an  example.  I  saw  a 
wToman  in  the  street  hop  to  one  side  at  least  six  feet. 
She  cried  out  very  loudly,  '  Sakes  alive  ! '  I  looked  to 
see  why  she  called  so,  and  found  she  had  almost  stepped 
on  a  little  green  snake.  It  was  alive,  to  be  sure.  But 
tell  me,  why  did  she  drop  that  letter  ?  Was  it  her 
agitation  ?  Why  did  she  not  say,  '  Snakes  alive  '  ?  " 

This  serious  appeal  set  every  one  in  a  roar.  She 
frowned  nervously,  and  then  gave  it  up  with  a  sigh, 
murmuring,  "  I  am  too  tedious  to  learn  the  oddities  of 
your  idioms." 


102  SAEDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

"  You  are  far  from  being  dull,  madame,  I  assure  you," 
said  Ralfe  courteously,  coming  to  her  rescue.  "  We 
laugh  because  you  are  unconsciously  so  witty." 

At  this  moment  some  one  called  attention  to  a  little 
painting  which  hung  almost  hidden  by  a  curtain,  and 
Lulu,  who  had  been  watching  the  princess  with  the  lov 
able  curiosity  of  a  child,  glided  up  to  her,  and  taking  up 
her  delicate  old  hand,  said  softly,  "  Madame,  may  I  not 
look  at  your  pretty  ring  ?  I  see  it  is  engraved  with  the 
same  crest  which  encircles  yonder  window." 

"  Certainly  my  dear,"  taking  it  off.  "  It  is  a  sapphire 
given  me  in  India,  and  the  great  lord  who  presented  it 
assured  me  it  was  the  genuine  tear  of  Brahma." 

"  The  tear  of  Brahma ! "  repeated  the  girl,  not  com 
prehending. 

"Yes;  there  is  an  Indian  legend  that  Brahma,  the 
Creator,  once  committed  a  sin,  that  he  might  know  the 
torments  of  remorse  and  thus  be  able  to  sympathize  with 
mortals.  But  the  moment  he  had  committed  it  he  began 
repeating  the  Mantras,  or  prayers  of  purification,  and 
in  his  grief,  dropped  on  earth  a  tear,  the  hottest  that 
ever  fell  from  an  eye  ;  and  from  it  was  formed  the  first 
sapphire." 

"  And  this  stone  is  that  tear !  "  holding  it  up  in  super 
stitious  awe. 

"  My  child,"  said  madame,  "  I  fear  great  lords  in 
India  are  capable  of  exaggerations  as  well  as  other 
people." 

Lulu  looked  disappointed.  "I  might  have  known," 
she  said  innocently.  "  But  what  a  poetic  legend !  Is 
there  any  peculiar  property  in  the  stone  ?  " 

"  The  Buddhists  assert  that  the  sapphire  produces 
peace  of  mind,  equanimity,  and  chases  all  evil  thoughts 
by  establishing  a  healthy  circulation  in  man.  So  does 
an  electric  battery,  with  its  well-directed  fluid,  say  our 


THE  SAPPHIRE.  103 

electricians.  The  sapphire,  say  the  Buddhists,  will  open 
barred  doors  and  dwellings  for  the  spirit  of  man  ;  it 
produces  a  desire  for  prayer,  and  brings  with  it  more 
peace  than  any  other  gem ;  but  he  who  would  wear  it 
must  lead  a  pure  and  holy  life." 

The  evening  passed  without  any  other  event  than  the 
agreeable  chatter  promised  over  the  tea.  When  the 
ladies  took  leave,  the  princess  followed  them  into 
the  snowy  reception-room,  and  to  Helen's  entreaties, 
gave  a  half-affirmative  reply  that  she  would  some  time 
visit  "  Spray  View,"  at  least  in  the  evening,  but  insisted 
that  no  other  company  should  be  invited  to  meet  her. 

"  You  know  I  am  an  old  woman,  darling,  so  old,  ugly, 
and  fleshy  that  I  find  it  impossible  to  carry  my  great 
elephant's  body  about.  I  find  it  best  to  stay  in  my  own 
little  den  and  growl  at  all  the  world ; "  but  her  large, 
good-natured  face  was  full  of  warm  feeling  as  she 
tightly  clasped  Helen's  hand. 

At  that  late  hour  the  moon  was  just  rising,  and  they 
all  preferred  to  walk.  The  carriages  were  sent  on,  and 
the  group  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  wandered  along  at 
their  leisure. 

"  Guy,"  whispered  Lulu  to  her  escort,  "  I  have  de 
cided  about  the  ring." 

"  Have  you,  darling  ?  I  am  glad.  May  I  get  it  for 
you  right  away  ?  " 

She  hung  on  his  arm  a  trifle  heavier  and  looked 
down. 

"  Can  I  have  just  what  I  want  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Any  thing  in  the  world  !  "  replied  Guy,  with  all  the 
open-handeduess  of  a  lover. 

"  Then  I  want  a  sapphire.  The  princess  says  they 
bring  holy  thoughts  and  peace." 

"  How  sweet  she  is  !  "  thought  Guy,  "  dear  little  inno 
cent,  full  of  holy  thoughts  and  holy  deeds.  How  I  love 


104  SARDIA:  A   STORY  OF  LOVE 

you,  love  you  ! "  he  murmured.  "  Yes,  you  shall  have  a 
sapphire,  but  it  can  never  match  yoiir  eyes." 

"  I  don't  think  this  has  been  such  a  wonderful  evening 
after  all,"  exclaimed  Lulu,  disappointedly.  "  I  expected 
the  princess  would  talk  such  grand  things  that  we  should 
all  sit  still  and  listen.  But  she  did  not  say  a  word  to 
me  that  I  could  not  understand.  She  spoke  as  simply  as 
anybody." 

Guy  smiled  at  her  artlessness.  "  Of  course  she  did. 
Have  you  not  often  noticed  that  when  we  have  grand 
anticipations  of  any  thing,  the  reality  seldom  approaches 
them  ?  " 

"  But  I  have  grand  anticipations  about  you  !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  darting  aside  and  looking  him  doubtfully  in  the 
face. 

Guy  caught  her  back  to  the  path.  "  Lulu,  you  are  the 
most  tantalizing  little  witch,  you  turn  a  man's  words 
topsy-tur "  —  The  next  was  lost  in  a  confused 
murmur. 

The  others  strolled  along  almost  in  silence.  Helen  and 
Sardia  were  the  last  to  reach  the  house,  and  they  lingered 
for  a  moment  on  the  great  stairway  to  say  some  latest 
words.  In  parting  she  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  strong, 
frank  pressure,  and  looked  at  him  with  so  sweet  a 
glance  of  respect  and  admiration  that  he  could  not  control 
himself,  and,  trembling,  breathed  rather  than  said, 
"  Helen ! " 


THE  STAG  PARTY  105 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A    THOROUGHBRED. 

"  The  accident  of  an  accident." 

Lord  Thurlow. 

ON  the  following  morning  all  the  gentlemen  made 
themselves  ready  to  spend  the  day  on  board  Sardia's 
yacht.  They  laughingly  declared  that  women  would  be 
in  the  way,  and  that  they  were  to  have  a  genuine  "  stag 
party,"  uninterrupted  by  so  much  as  a  glimpse  of  a  pet 
ticoat.  Signer  Zante  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  join 
them,  and  as  they  all  bowled  along  in  the  various  car 
riages  down  to  the  wharf,  many  turned  to  gaze  enviously 
or  admiringly  at  the  equipages  and  the  men. 

"  We  shall  not  get  up  steam  to-day,"  Sardia  had  said, 
"  it  is  fine  sailing  weather  ! " 

Guy,  whose  tastes  ran  somewhat  to  horses,  had  sent 
for  a  pair  of  gay  "  steppers  "  from  a  plantation  he  owned 
down  in  the  heart  of  old  Kentucky,  and  as  he  flung  the 
reins  to  the  groom,  stood  watching  them  trot  up  the 
street  with  a  connoisseur's  critical  glance. 

"Fine  creatures,"  said  Charlie  Vane.  "What  a  glo 
rious  animal  a  horse  is  !  If  they  only  had  a  mind  where 
would  man  stand  in  creation  ?  " 

"  A  mind,"  said  Guy,  in  evident  surprise,  as  they  fol 
lowed  the  others.  "  Some  of  them  know  a  great  deal 
more  than  the  men  who  own  them.  Why,  my  'Lady 
Lucy '  could  tell  me  a  thousand  things  I  don't  know,  if 
she  could  only  speak.  She  is  just  intellect,  and  nothing 


100  SAUDI  A:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

else.  A  power  of  reasoning  and  remembering  which  gives 
her  a  'great  advantage  over  others  of  less  character." 

"  Character  in  a  horse,"  said  Charlie,  incredulously. 

"I  tell  you,"  cried  Guy,  in  some  excitement,  "that 
character  is  the  right  word  to  apply  in  her  case,  or  in 
the  case  of  a  good  many  splendid  creatures  I've  known 
about.  Take  'Harry  Bassett,'  for  instance,  one  of  the 
best  thoroughbreds  I  ever  saw  run.  Upon  the  track, 
when  his  rivals  were  plunging  and  rearing  with  excite 
ment  and  impatience,  his  calm  sense  of  power  and  per 
fect  confidence  in  himself  made  him  unusually  quiet  and 
dignified  in  demeanor.  He  seemed  to  look  upon  victory 
as  a  matter  of  course ;  and  the  fine  manner  in  which  he 
would  draw  away  from  his  competitors,  with  no  urging 
save  a  light  word  of  command,  proved  how  fully  he  had 
his  body  under  control,  and  what  a  thorough  comprehen 
sion  of  the  situation  he  possessed.  His  adaptability  to 
situations  was  like  the  tact  of  a  well-bred  person.  Noth 
ing  disturbed  him  or  made  him  uneasy.  Like  a  man  of 
the  world,  who  has  been  tossed  by  circumstances  from 
the  busy  din  of  ever-noisy  cities  to  the  breathless  soli 
tudes  of  the  eternal  hills,  from  an  Arab  camp  to  a  Paris 
salon,  he  accepted  all  positions  with  the  utmost  noncha 
lance  ;  and  in  travelling  at  full  speed  by  rail,  in  crossing 
ferries  from  point  to  point,  in  changing  from  stable  to 
stable,  in  the  midst  of  the  deafening  roar  of  a  crowd  of 
half-maddened  spectators,  or  left  to  run  alone  in  a  quiet 
country  pasture,  he  was  fearless,  steady,  and  self-pos 
sessed,  notwithstanding  his  nervous  temperament  and 
inbred  energy  and  fire." 

The  gentlemen  had  gradually  grouped  together  as  Guy 
talked  vehemently  on,  and  as  they  entered  the  little  row- 
boat,  manned  by  the  sailors  of  the  yacht,  in  their  dark 
flannel  suits  and  scarlet  stars  embroidered  on  ribbons 
and  collars,  Signer  Zante  remarked  slowly, — 


A   THOROUGHBRED  107 

"  I  fancy  you  are  talking  of  a  racer,  although  I  did 
net  catch  the  beginning  of  the  conversation.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  am  not  at  all  posted  on  the  subject  of  thor 
oughbreds,  and  I  beg  to  know  what  is  a  thoroughbred  ? 
I  know  they  speak  of  dogs,  horses,  and  cattle  in  the 
same  way." 

"  I  believe  the  word  may  equally  apply  to  human 
beings,"  said  Sardia. 

"  Yes ;  you  are  right ! "  Guy  assented,  glowing  with 
enthusiasm  ;  "  the  world  over,  a  thoroughbred  is  a  thor- 
OMgh-blood.  A  creature  made,  physically,  intellectually, 
or  morally,  of  the  finest  fibre ;  a  God-natured  being 
worthy  of  association  with  the  highest." 

<•'  I  can  never  forget  the  morning  when  I  first  asked 
that  question,"  pleasantly  observed  Ralfe,  pulling  out 
his  cigar-case.  ".We  had  driven  up  the  boulevard  and 
over  the  bridge,  out  into  that  country  space  beyond  New 
York,  where  Jerome  Park,  the  great  racing-track  with 
its  rolling  greenery  and  breezy  lanes,  its  sunny  stables 
and  Mayflower-scented  woods,  gave  to  our  senses,  after 
a  winter  housing  between  stone  and  brick  walls,  a  new 
taste  of  paradise.  Standing  by  one  of  the  stables,  with 
its  yellow  straw  and  its  grinning  darky  boys,  its  many 
protruding  heads  of  fillies  and  stallions  thrust  from  open 
doorways,  and  its  sweet,  fresh  smell  of  hay,  I  said  to 
the  owner,  '  Colonel,  what  is  a  thoroughbred  ? ' 

" '  Hi,  Jim,  thar !  Trot  out  Harry  Bassett !  Bring  Mm 
round  even  thar,'  said  he,  and  pointed  without  another 
word  to  his  favorite.  By  Jove,  gentlemen,  there  was  no 
need !  It  was  a  picture  which  I  was  forced  to  contem 
plate  in  silence.  A  word,  a  sound,  seemed  for  a  moment 
to  torture  me,  so  harmonious  was  the  spell  of  that  vision. 
I  hardly  dare  attempt  to  tell  you  what  he  was  like,  but 
in  color  he  was  a  golden  chestnut.  As  he  stood  in  the 
sunshine,  T  involuntarily  glanced  around  to  find  his 


108  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

reflection,  so  surely  did  liis  burnished  coat  seem  to  give 
forth  a  lustre  of  its  own.  His  inane  and  tail  were 
shaded  from  a  darker  hue  to  a  fair  tint  on  the  edges, 
and  there  wasn't  the  slightest  wave  or  curl,  but  each 
like  glancing  silk  hung  neatly  "  — 

"A  powerful  proof  in  themselves  of  his  stainless 
breeding,"  put  in  Guy. 

"The  lightness  of  his  head  and  neck,  with  their  in 
imitable  pencilling,  was  only  equalled  by  the  chest,  which 
wide  and  deep,  held  a  great  heart  whose  perfect  action 
must  have  been  one  of  his  finest  points.  His  back,  ribs 
and  hind  quarters  made  for  weight,  spring,  and  power; 
the  elbows  and  lower  arms ;  strong  broad  knees  and 
pasterns  of  medium  length  and  great  strength ;  the  feet 
excellently  proportioned  to  the  limbs, — all  spoke  of 
muscles  like  steel,  veins  through  which  the  richest  blood 
was  flowing,  and  bones  like  polished  ivory  beneath  the 
radiant  skin.  The  head,  whose  pride  of  carriage  was 
only  equalled  by  the  gracefulness  of  its  every  motion, 
was  surmounted  by  ears  which  seemed  to  be  the  last 
fine  touch  from  the  hand  of  Dame  Nature  before  she 
sent  her  darling  into  the  world.  The  eyes,  in  which  the 
ardor,  determination,  and  mettle  of  all  his  wonderful 
ancestry  appeared  concentrated,  glowed  with  that  scar 
let  light  which  seemed  struck  from  the  fire  and  energy 
of  his  own  courageous  spirit.  When  gazing  on  that 
remarkable  creature,  I  recognized  the  possibility  of  per 
fection,  and,  turning  to  the  colonel,  I  murmured,  '  I  am 
answered.  A  thoroughbred  is  the  climax  of  all  good 
influences.' " 

"Your  definition,  if  applied  to  human  beings,  must 
narrow  the  circle  to  a  very  limited  number,"  thought 
fully  observed  Signor  Zante,  as  they  finally  had  boarded 
the  yacht  and  were  softly  gliding  out  into  the  stream. 
"  To  be  thorough-Wood  is  difficult  in  a  new  nation,  and 


109 

especially  in  one  made  up  of  such  odd  admixtures  as  we 
find  in  America.  '  Good  influences '  is  a  wide  term  also, 
and  means,  first  of  all,  leisure  and  wealth.  While  a 
people  are  necessarily  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  bread, 
clothing,  and  shelter,  or  the  immediate  comforts  beyond 
that,  they  have  little  time  to  devote  to  that  culture 
which  rounds  character  and  polishes  manners." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  make  myself  understood," 
answered  Ralfe,  "but  I  consider  the  engineer  who, 
rough,  uneducated  save  in  the  make-up  of  his  engine 
and  the  rules  of  the  road,  sees  before  him  certain  death, 
but  firmly  stands  at  his  post  and  puts  on  the  brakes, 
forgetful  of  all  but  duty  and  the  precious  trust  he  holds, 
is  a  thorough-bred.  The  woman  who  nurses  patients 
with  yellow-fever;  the  man  whose  moral  courage  rejects 
the  most  subtle  temptation ;  the  woman  whose  self- 
respect  and  virtuous  pride  keeps  her  stainless,  and  a 
queen  amidst  the  horrors  of  poverty,  vulgarity,  and 
abuse,  —  these,  and  a  thousand  others  who  retain  unal 
tered  the  noble  elements  of  character  inherited,  or  given 
as  an  especial  grace  to  them,  are  thorough-bred  and 
thorough-blood,  if  born  in  a  gutter  and  dying  in  neglect. 
They  are  the  pure  and  sweet  of  spirit  who  shall  see 
God." 

Sardia  had  hearkened  to  the  conversation  in  almost  ab 
solute  silence.  He  had  quietly  given  his  orders  to  the 
captain,  who  had  listened  as  silently  as  the  Sphinx,  but 
who  instantly  carried  out  to  the  letter  the  wishes  of 
his  employer. 

Apparently  indifferent,  and  occasionally  moving  away, 
their  host  for  the  day  seemed  to  take  no  interest  in 
a  chat  not  especially  including  himself,  but  he  missed 
not  a  word  of  Kalfe's  earnest  discourse,  and  while  idly 
watching  the  smoke  which  lightly  drifted  from  his  cigar, 
thought  wistfully,  "  He  is  worthy  of  even  Helen.  No 


110  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

wonder  she  loves  him,  for  she  need  not  idealize  him. 
His  reality  is  better  than  the  highest  imaginings  of  some 
women.  Yet  I  believe  all  women  idealize  in  spite  of 
themselves !  And  if  he  returned  her  love  he  would  not 
fall  short.  But  the  Visonti !  Blind,  unreasonable  fellow 
that  he  is,  with  all  his  fine  perceptions.  He  is  in  the 
net  of  his  own  poetic  illusions,  and  drawn  by  her  mag 
netism  to  a  fancied  transport  of  love.  But  if  he  ever 
finds  her  out !  I  can  conceive  a  terrible  reaction.  His 
patience  and  loyalty  are  almost  unbounded,  but  if  they 
go  "  —  and  he  made  a  magnificent  gesture  of  repudiation. 

Lines  were  now  brought  out,  and  the  captain  respect 
fully  assured  them  that  they  would  soon  run  over  an 
excellent  fishing-ground.  The  breeze  was  so  gentle  that 
trolling  was  possible,  the  yacht  moving  along  at  an  easy 
speed  over  a  placid  sea.  Lunch  was  announced  in  the 
midst  of  their  sport,  which  continued  good,  and  as  no 
one  admitted  hunger  it  was  not  until  an  hour  later  that 
they  finally  gathered  about  the  table.  So  exquisite  was 
this  dainty  meal,  from  Julien  soup,  clear  as  drops  of 
topaz,  to  the  dessert  of  fruits  glace,  fairy  conceptions  in 
cakes  and  ices,  and  wines  glowing  with  the  sunshine 
bottled  long  ago  in  far-away  vineyards,  that  Charlie 
Vane  sighed  a  long  breath  of  artistic  satisfaction,  and 
said  most  prosaically,  — 

"  I  am  just  not  hungry." 

"  That  is  the  way  I  intended  you  should  leave  lunch," 
laughed  Sardia;  "but  I  assure  you  at  dinner  you  shall 
be  'filled  to  overflowing,  pressed  down,  and  running 
over,'  if  I  dare  to  badly  quote  from  a  good  book." 

They  were  soon  stretched  out  on  easy  sea-chairs  or  in 
hammocks  swung  under  .the  gay  awning,  and  the  a  puff- 
puff  "  of  their  cigars  was  mingled  with  all  sorts  of  talk. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Guy,  again  referring  to  the  topic 
of  horses,  "  why  can't  we  all  take  a  run  and  attend  the 


"MAN  OVERBOARD"  111 

races  ?  We  can  invite  the  ladies  and  have  a  jolly  time. 
What  do  you  say,  Ralfe  ?  Would  Helen  go  ?  " 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea,"  he  answered,  smiling 
indifferently,  "  but  for  my  own  part  nothing  would  suit 
me  better.  The  last  race  I  saw  was  the  Derby,  and 
I  lost  seventy -five  pounds  just  as  e — easy." 

As  they  chatted  a  stiff  breeze  sprang  up  and  soon 
ruffled  the  waters,  so  that  the  seething  brine  sang  as 
they  flew  along ;  white  caps  tipped  every  rolling  peak 
with  froth,  and  the  smaller  craft  began  to  put  in  towards 
home,  rocking  and  dancing  as  if  with  delight.  All  at 
once  Vane  cried  out,  "Look,  look  at  that  little  bird! 
It  is  a  land-bird,  I  am  sure.  See  how  weary  he  is ! 
What  a  melancholy  cheep !  Why,  let's  catch  him  ! "  for 
the  tiny  creature,  driven  by  a  sudden  gust,  almost 
touched  the  sail. 

Ralfe  sprang  forward,  pulling  his  cap  off  his  head,  and 
had  almost  captured  the  fluttering  fugitive  when  a  lurch 
of  the  vessel  sent  him  off  his  balance,  and  in  a  second 
he  had  plunged  overboard,  and  far  down  into  the  chilly 
waters. 

All  sprang  to  the  side,  and  for  an  instant  were  dumb 
founded.  He  had  disappeared  so  suddenly  it  had  seemed 
impossible. 

"  Good  God,  Ralfe  is  overboard ! "  shouted  Guy,  tug 
ging  at  his  clothing,  while  Sardia  was  already  divesting 
himself  of  shoes  and  coat  while  giving  orders  in  a  voice 
that  sounded  like  a  trumpet.  In  a  moment  he  had 
espied  Ralfe's  head,  and  with  an  agile  spring,  was  over 
the  stern  and  lustily  swimming  towards  him.  But  the 
head  had  disappeared  again,  and  soon  they  saw  him  give 
a  dive  and  go  under.  It  seemed  an  eternity  to  the 
friends  before  both  reappeared,  Sardia  supporting  his 
companion  on  his  arm  but  laboring  considerably.  The 
jolly-boat  had  been  swung  off,  and  in  a  few  moments 


112        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

was  pulling  towards  them.  But  the  yacht  had  flown  a 
long  distance  before  the  "  Heave  to ! "  of  the  captain 
had  been  obeyed,  so  that  the  two  men  were  very  far  be 
hind. 

"  Ralfe  is  no  swimmer,  even  in  smooth  water,"  said 
Guy,  in  that  hushed  tone  which  betokened  his  horrible 
apprehension,  as  with  white  faces  they  leaned  anxiously 
watching  the  exciting  chase  of  the  brawny  sailors. 
"  He  doesn't  seem  to  be  helping  himself  at  all.  If  they 
were  not  loaded  with  clothing,  —  but  Sardia  is  a  regular 
fish,  and  as  strong  as  an  ox.  By  Jove  !  look  at  that. 
He  has  actually  gotten  Ralfe  half  out  of  water.  But 
what  is  the  matter  with  the  poor  felloAV  ?  He  hangs  as 
limp  —  Charlie,  Charlie,  it  cannot  be  he  is  drowned  ?  " 
And  they  grasped  each  other  with  wild  eyes  and  breath 
less  lips  in  an  agony  of  suspense.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  they  saw  both  their  friends  dragged  into  the  boat, 
and  soon  they  were  assisting  Sardia  to  carry  Ralfe,  who 
was  unconscious  and  ghastly  as  if  dead,  to  the  cabin. 
He  was  immediately  undressed  and  placed  on  a  broad 
lounge,  while  every  one  performed  some  necessary  office 
for  his  recovery. 

"He  is  not  drowned,"  Sardia  said,  confidently.  "He 
said  '  Old  boy ! '  a  second  before  he  closed  his  eyes. 
I  am  sure  we  can  bring  him  around  in  a  few  moments  ! '' 
And  while  some  of  the  men  vigorously  rubbed  and 
chafed  his  skin,  their  host  forced  a  small  glass  of  brandy 
between  his  teeth  and  applied  his  smelling-salts  to  the 
delicate  nostrils.  But  their  efforts  proved  useless  for 
so  long  that  they  all  became  very  much  alarmed.  They 
used  all  the  prescribed  methods  for  reviving  a  drowned 
person,  but  he  remained  cold,  white  and  motionless, 
without  any  sign  of  life.  "  He  is  not  drowned  ! "  per 
sisted  Sardia,  as  they  for  an  instant  ceased  their  efforts 
and  stood  with  horror  and  despair  written  upon  their 


HE   WILL   LIVE  113 

faces.  "Perhaps  it  is  his  heart,"  suggested  Signer 
Zante ;  "  let  us  pound  it  thoroughly,  and  endeavor  once 
again,  with  all  our  might,  to  get  up  a  circulation.  Make 
a  strong  mustard  plaster,"  he  ordered. 

After  these  directions  had  been  carried  out,  their  joy 
was  unbounded  to  see  Ralfe's  eyes  slowly  open  and  a 
faint  sigh  escape  his  lips.  Guy  and  Sardia  wrung  each 
other's  hands  in  silence,  while  tears  ran  down  Charlie 
Vane's  cheeks. 

"  May  the  Eternal  Spirit  be  praised  !  "  solemnly  ejac 
ulated  Signor  Zante,  doffing  his  hat,  which  he  had  for 
gotten,  and  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead. 
''  He  will  live  ! "  He  stood  gazing  at  the  fine  pale  face  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then  turning  away  with  consider 
able  emotion  half  murmured,  "  I  am  glad.  '  His  life  was 
gentle,  and  the  elements  so  mixed  in  him,  that  Nature 
might  stand  up  and  say  to  all  the  world,  This  was  a 
man!"  Then  smiled  at  the  familiar  quotation. 

Sardia  suggested  that  they  should  now  remove  Ralfe 
to  a  berth,  and  after  making  him  comfortable,  they  all 
left  him  to  his  host,  lest  any  excitement  should  prove 
injurious.  On  going  up  to  the  deck  they  felt  a  new 
glory  in  the  sunshine  and  a  fresher  enjoyment  of  the 
afternoon  breeze,  which  now  steadily  sent  them  onward 
towards  the  town.  Not  one  but  felt  something  precious 
had  been  saved  to  them.  Ralfe's  nature  was  so  winning, 
yet  so  quietly  strong,  that  he  gained  the  true  friendship 
of  all  who  knew  him.  Suddenly  Guy  burst  into  a  laugh. 
He  had  seen  Sardia's  .valet.  "  Oh  !  "  he  cried ;  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  it,  but  Sardia  is  as  wet  as  a  merman  now. 
His  clothes  are  dripping  with  salt  water.  Go  down  and 
attend  to  your  master,  Jaques.  What  are  you  thinking 
of?" 

After  a  little  Sardia  appeared,  fresh  and  vigorous. 
His  eyes  were  almost  black,  and  his  cheeks  ruddy  with 


114  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

the  exercise  and  excitement  of  the  hour.  "  He  is  asleep, 
and  will  be  all  right  by  the  time  we  get  home.  What 
do  you  think  were  the  first  words  he  uttered  ?  " 

"Can't  tell." 

"  Don't  know,  of  course." 

"  Thanked  you,  I  supposed." 

"  Why,  not  at  all,"  said  Sardia,  laughing.  "  He  fin 
ished  the  sentence  he  broke  off  in  the  water.  '  Old  boy, 
did  you  catch  the  bird  ?  '  said  he,  just  like  a  child." 

"  I  wish  we  had  caught  it  after  all  this  row,"  Charlie 
Vane  said,  regretfully.  "  There's  Kalfe's  cap  ;  shouldn't 
wonder  if  'twas  under  that." 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  the  cap,  and  sure  enough, 
by  some  chance,  the  bird  had  fallen  under  it.  They 
were  all  surprised,  and  grouped  themselves  about  the 
tiny  brown  thing,  looking  down  upon  it  in  silence.  For 
it  was  lying  on  its  back,  its  pretty  wings  stretched  out, 
its  graceful  head  put  under  in  a  pitiful  way.  The  little 
swallow  was  dead. 


THE  AWARKENING  115 


CHAPTER  XV. 

UNREQUITED    LOVE. 

"  Alone  !  —  that  worn-out  word, 
So  idly  spoken,  and  so  coldly  heard  ; 
Yet  all  that  poets  sing  and  grief  hath  known 
Of  hopes  laid  waste,  knells  in  that  word  —  Alone  !  " 

Bulwer  Lytton. 

"And  vain  !  yes,  vain  ! 
For  me  too  is  it,  having  so  much  striven 

To  see  this  fine  snare  take  thee,  and  thy  soul 
Which  should  have  climbed  to  mine,  and  shared  my  heaven, 
Spent  on  a  lower  loveliness,  whose  whole 
Passion  of  love  were  but  a  parody 
Of  that  kept  here  for  thee." 

Edwin  Arnold. 

"  How  still  the  night !    How  dark  the  sky  ! 
How  lonely  on  my  bed  I  lie,  — 
O  God,  how  near  Thy  love  should  be, 
To  comfort  me,  to  comfort  me  !  " 

RALFE  murmured  these  words  which  he  had  written 
long  ago  with  a  strangely  pathetic  accent.  He  was  lying 
in  his  great  chamber,  as  he  supposed,  quite  alone.  He 
had  slowly  awakened  from  a  state  of  unconsciousness 
which  he  little  knew  had  lasted  many  days.  Very  grad 
ually  and  quietly  the  last  scene  he  could  remember  stole 
over  his  mind.  He  had  been  lying  in  the  berth,  of 
Sardia's  yacht ;  and  now  the  pretty  clock  by  his  side 
rung  its  muffled  church  chime  of  two  solemn  strokes, 
and  his  room,  lit  only  by  the  rosy  gleaming  of  an  open 
fire,  together  with  the  melancholy  sigh  of  the  wind  and 


116  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

the  dashing  of  the  rain  against  the  windows,  made  it 
seem  to  him  as  if  he  had  slept  a  Rip  Van  Winkle  slum 
ber  far  into  the  winter.  Doubting  his  own  personality, 
yet  dreamily  aware  that  something  unusual  must  have 
happened  to  him,  his  heart  grew  cold  and  uneasy,  with 
that  vague  horror  and  undefmable  dread  which  is  apt  to 
come  in  the  night  with  unaccustomed  weakness.  He 
fancied  he  was  in  the  midst  of  some  mysterious  calam 
ity,  and  with  an  aspiration  like  a  cry,  he  breathed,  — 

"  O  God,  how  near  Thy  love  should  be, 
To  comfort  me,  to  comfort  me  ! '  " 

Before  he  had  finished,  Helen,  like  a  living  Love,  stood 
beside  him,  smiling  down  into  his  eyes  with  a  look  so 
thankful,  so  glad  and  so  tender,  that  it  seemed  to  his 
half-aroused  imagination  that  she  was  an  angel  sent  in 
stantly  in  answer  to  his  prayer. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  fragrant  sigh,  "  you  are  here 
again ! " 

Her  voice  was  so  full  of  good  cheer,  strength,  health, 
that  he  felt  as  if  struck  by  a  fresh  breeze. 

"  Where  have  I  been  ? "  he  asked,  smiling  rather 
feebly,  and  taking  the  warm,  fair  hand  that  smoothed 
his  pillow. 

"In  dreamland.  In  No-man's-land,  leading  an  en 
chanted  life.  You  have  not  condescended  to  notice  me 
for  more  than  a  week." 

"  Have  I  been  sick  ?  "  he  questioned  practically,  still 
retaining  her  hand. 

"  A  little,  and  horribly  out  of  your  head.  You  have 
raved  of  birds,  from  the  sparrow  to  the  eagle,  from  the 
ostrich  to  the  '  common  domestic  fowl.'  It  was  as  good 
as  a  lesson  in  natural  history  to  sit  by  and  listen  to  you." 

"  And  have  you  sat  by  and  watched  me  ?  "  he  asked 
earnestly,  but  with  difficulty,  his  throat  seemed  so 


"BECAUSE   I  AM  YOUR  WIFE"  117 

strangely  thick  and  his  lips  so  very  dry.  "  Why  did 
you  not  leave  that  to  Wilson  ?  Have  I  had  a  score  of 
doctors  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

"  Wilson  has  certainly  done  his  accustomed  duties,  and 
you  have  had  three  physicians  attending  you,"  said  Helen, 
quietly.  "  I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  give  you  this," 
and  she  offered  him  a  tiny  glass. 

He  swallowed  the  medicine  without  a  protest,  then 
again  took  her  hand  and  said  even  more  earnestly,  "  But 
it  is  long  past  midnight.  Have  you  watched  me  and 
taken  care  of  me  all  this  long  time  ? "  He  looked 
straight  into  her  eyes  with  a  most  embarrassing  eagerness. 

She  turned  her  own  aside  for  a  second,  and  then  look 
ing  at  him  calmly,  answered,  "  Yes,  I  have  watched  with 
you  and  taken  care  of  you  all  the  time." 

"  What  did  you  do  it  for  ?  "  he  said,  bluntly. 

"  Because  I  am  your  wife,"  she  replied,  growing  visibly 
pale. 

He  flung  her  hand  aside,  then  caught  it  up  again  and 
kissed  it. 

"  It  was  your  duty,"  he  murmured,  with  a  little  scorn 
ful  laugh.  "  But  I  sincerely  thank  you  for  it.  I  did  not 
know  that  comrades  took  so  much  trouble  for  each  other. 
I  shall  know  what  to  do  when  you  are  ill.  I  shall  not 
forget  it." 

Helen  grew  even  a  shade  paler.  He  noticed  her  singu 
lar  expression  and  added  languidly,  for  it  seemed  impos 
sible  to  talk,  his  voice  was  so  husky,  "  How  tired  you 
must  be !  Do  go  to  bed.  You  certainly  can  leave  me 
now.  I  am  quite  conscious,  and  will  take  my  medicines 
as  you  direct  if  I  am  not  asleep.  I  begin  to  feel  very 
well." 

"  Do  you  prefer  it  ?  "  she  asked  gently,  turning  away 
with  a  hesitating  step.  "  I  thought  I  heard  you  say 
something  about  being  lonely." 


118  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"No,  I  confess  I  do  not  prefer  it,"  he  answered 
emphatically,  half  starting  up.  "It  is  very  selfish,  I 
know,  but  some  way  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  be  left  by 
myself.  I  wish  you  would  sit  by  the  fire  until  I  am 
asleep  again.  I  am  lonesome.  I  am  very  lonesome 
indeed." 

He  sank  back  and  suddenly  turning  closed  his  eyes 
and  remained  silent.  Helen  returned  to  her  seat  by  the 
fire.  The  chill  of  a  great  gale  made  the  soft  glow  most 
agreeable.  Thoughtfully  she  looked  at  the  flickering 
blaze  that  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  would  start  amidst  the 
coals,  and  as  the  hour  wore  on,  after  a  brief  and  solemn 
thanksgiving  for  this  precious  life  and  reason  restored 
after  unconsciously  approaching  a  most  appalling  death, 
a  thanksgiving  which  lighted  her  beautiful  face  with  a 
touch  of  the  heaven  her  soul  for  a  moment  entered,  — 
she  took  counsel  with  her  secret  heart,  and  found  there 
in  a  dull  but  positive  pain,  which,  crush  as  she  would, 
and  hide  from  herself,  as  she  had  striven  to  do  all  these 
long  Aveeks,  now  asserted  itself  with  inexpressible 
power.  "  Out  from  behind  your  screen  !  Come  out  and 
speak  the  truth.  It  is  useless  to  protest.  I  know  all 
and  expose  it,"  she  seemed  to  call  to  her  soul ;  and  to 
meet  her  white,  sober  face,  seemed  to  rise  the  spirit  of 
her  own  hidden  love,  which  up  to  this  moment  she  had 
ever  put  aside,  rejected,  or  ignored. 

While  watching  beside  her  husband  that  day,  she  had 
read  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra."  Now  the  wonderful 
story  swept  over  her  with  exceptional  significance. 
Their  supreme  loves  ending  in  a  supreme  tragedy  up 
lifted,  sustained,  inspired  her. 

Almost  at  the  very  moment  when  she  was  forced  to 
admit  that  she  was  possessed  by  a  new  passion  full  of 
an  infinite  sorrow,  yet  tinctured  with  as  deep  and  new 
a  joy,  the  vivid  picture  of  those  lovers  arose  in  her  mind 


LOVE  ALONE  CAX  GRATIFY        119 

and  seemed  to  mingle  itself  with  the  rapture,  yet  the 
anguish,  of  her  feeling.  "  Be  life  what  it  may,"  she 
slowly  thought,  "and  it  seems  that  nothing  awaits  mine 
but  a  monotony,  —  there  is  to  be  found  in  past  loves,  past 
agonies,  a  something  Avhich  aids  the  soul  to  bear.  With 
the  remembrance  that  one  is  not  alone,  but  all  humanity 
have  each  and  every  one  had  in  their  time  some  touch  of 
this  sorrow  and  suffering,  the  spirit  becomes  brave  and 
can  be  silent."  For  she  did  not  endeavor  to  conceal  from 
herself  what  was  so  palpable,  that  Kalfe  had  no  thought, 
no  emotion,  no  desire,  which  did  not  lay  itself  yearningly 
at  the  feet  of  Sybil  Visonti. 

By  the  keen  consciousness  of  her  growing  passion, 
without  the  necessity  of  a  word  or  look  from  them  to 
convince  her,  she  had  become  aware  that  Ealfe's  devotion 
was  no  fancy,  no  trifling  ardor  of  a  moment.  '  He  was 
under  a  sway  imperious  and  sustained.  It  was  a  force 
that  moved  his  whole  being  with  a  magnetic  spell  which 
as  yet  had  been  undisputed  by  any  counter  attraction, 
and  had  but  gained  by  long  poetic  dreams  concentrated 
on  one  object.  For,  neither  glory  nor  work  nor  inven 
tion  could  satisfy  his  vehement  nature.  Love  alone 
could  gratify  him,  for  beside  his  senses  and  heart,  it 
alone  could  content  the  brain.  All  his  powers,  imagina 
tion  among  the  rest,  could  find  in  it  only,  their  true  incli 
nation,  their  best  employment.  She  saw,  through  the 
simple  courtesies  of  his  daily  life,  the  dominating  idea 
that  more  and  more  absorbed  it.  He  appeared  to  her 
like  one  over  whom  an  enchantment  had  been  thrown, 
whose  fascination  drew  him  on  and  conquered  all 
resistance. 

"Can  this  be  love  ?"  she  reasoned.  "Is  this  mighty 
and  majestic  emotion  which  so  exalts  me,  what  they  also 
feel  towards  each  other  ?  Or  is  it  but  a  terrible  passion, 
which  like  a  flood  drowns  all  repugnance  and  all  deli- 


120  SARDIA:  A  STOEY  OF  LOVE 

cacy,  all  preconceived  opinions,  and  all  received  princi 
ples  !  Can  it  be  that  for  her  sake  he  could  forever  keep 
silence  as  I  shall  do  for  his,  or  would  she,  to  grant  him  a 
life  of  happiness,  put  aside  her  own  ?  For  oh,  to  make 
him  happy,  I  will  imperil  my  own  great  joy !  AYhat 
does  it  matter  if  he  drink  the  wine  and  I  the  lees  ?  He 
will  never  know  how  I  have  endeavored  to  conform  my 
very  intellect  to  his  preferences  ;  how  in  my  hidden 
heart  and  brain  I  preserve  and  ever  shall  preserve  the 
worshipping  attitude  which  his  dear  spirit  has  rendered 
sweetest !  He  will  never  dream  while  he  sees  me  daily 
in  his  presence,  that  I  carry  with  me  that  unalterable 
affection  which  would  save  him  the  slightest  anxiety  by 
the  giving  up  of  the  most  perfect  pleasure,  —  which  will 
yield  itself,  fly,  run,  rejoice  to  yield  itself  for  his  slight 
est  advantage  without  one  hope  of  recognition  !  I  can 
do  it.  I  will  do  it.  For  he  has  almost  told  me  his 
secret.  He  almost  makes  me  his  confidante.  He  thinks 
me  his  'comrade  ! '  His  true  ( comrade  '  I  will  be  !  Into 
his  life  shall  be  poured  the  brightest  sunshine,  be  it 
what  he  longs  for  or  some  still  far  sweeter  joy  ! " 

For  she  had  heard  his  waking  words  plainly  enough,  and 
the  aspiration,  the  murmured  cry  for  comfort,  touched  her 
sympathy  to  the  quick.  "  How  he  loves  her,  and  how 
hopeless  he  thinks  his  position  !  Tied  to  me  by  a  bond 
age  which  he  never  would  have  assumed  had  he  believed 
there  was  the  least  hope  of  winning  her,  he  lies  upon  his 
lonely  bed  and  calls  on  God  to  comfort  him  !  If  she  sat 
here  what  transport  would  light  his  face  !  If  she  had 
said  '  I  am  your  wife,'  he  would  have  clasped  her  to  his 
heart  in  a  bliss  too  deep  for  words  !  Oh,  my  Father ! 
Help  me  to  do  what  is  right !  If  it  be  Thy  will,  let  me 
sacrifice  myself  to  the  uttermost !  If  they  love  each 
other,  how  much  better  do  I  love  him !  If  he  suffers, 
how  much  more  do  I  feel  unavailing  anguish  !  For  he 


THE  UNIVERSAL  LANGUAGE  121 

may  yet  be  happy,  but  I,  —  I !  Vain  and  brief  is  all 
human  consolation  !  Dear  Comforter,  come  to  me,  for  I 
too  am  very  lonely." 

She  bowed  her  head  on  her  hands  and  the  great  tears 
fell  one  by  one  through  her  fingers.  She  forgot,  for  an 
instant,  and  gave  one  quivering  sob.  Alas,  what  a  Mas 
ter  one  should  be,  who  would  express  what  that  sob 
meant,  —  who  could  translate  into  words  that  one  great 
human  emotion,  the  one  essence  of  being,  the  one  incen 
tive  to  higher  life,  the  one  incomprehensible  enthusiasm, 
which  having  taken  possession  of  the  soul,  wields  over 
it  an  unerring  and  inevitable  rule,  reducing  it  to  utter 
misery  or  raising  it  to  proudest  heights  !  How  inspired 
should  he  be  to  utter  in  words  that  secret  ecstasy,  that 
silent  pang,  that  hoping,  longing,  fearing,  despairing 
sensation,  which  makes  the  body  a  furnace  or  an  ice 
berg  ;  the  heart  a  trembling,  panting  thing,  or  strong 
and  brave  as  a  lion  ;  the  mind  a  confused  and  ungoverned 
power,  or  a  calm,  clear,  delicate  perception ;  the  honor 
at  odds  with  itself  or  transcendent  over  matter ;  the 
whole  being  transformed,  "  changed  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,"  to  something  sweeter,  more  desperate  ;  finer, 
more  uncalculating ;  nobler,  more  reckless ;  truer,  more 
confiding,  fiercer,  yet  more  weak  ! 

Poets  in  the  universal  language  of  genius  try  to  teach 
what  loving  means.  Philosophers  weigh  human  feelings 
in  the  scales  of  their  scientific  researches,  and  attribute 
it  to  race,  color,  climate,  habit,  food,  and  education. 
Painters  with  rainbow  pallets  depict  some  phase  of  its 
unlimited  career ;  priests  point  us  to  the  one  great  Love 
as  model  and  pattern  of  it  all ;  Nature  breathes  it  in  her 
sighing  winds,  her  flowers,  her  beasts,  her  hills,  her 
streams  ;  but  still  the  unsatisfied  soul  cries  out,  "  Love  is 
uninterpretable !  Love  hath  no  translation !  It  hath 
but  one  medium,  —  personal  contact!  It  hath  but  one 


122  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

language,  —  the  touch  of  lips,  the  clasping  of  hands,  the 
glances  of  fond  eyes,  the  glowing  of  pressed  cheeks, 
the  glory  and  beauty  and  radiance  of  the  countenance, 
the  grace  and  freedom  of  the  gesture  when  man  and 
woman  meet,  heart  kissing  heart,  soul  melted  in  soul,  to 
make  a  wedding  of  two  lives,  a  unit  of  a  duality  !  " 

Day,  gray  and  dusky,  began  to  creep  into  the  room 
before  Helen  raised  her  head.  Her  spirit  had  calmed 
itself  with  earnest  prayer.  With  her  constant  habit  of 
turning  ever  Godward,  she  had  sought  His  judgment, 
sympathy,  comprehension,  tenderness  and  love,  as  a 
trusting  child  creeps  to  the  yearning  mother  heart  and 
lays  its  innocent  soul  bare  in  utter  confidence.  Eising 
with  a  quiet  look,  she  stood  for  some  time  watching 
Ralfe,  whose  fine  features  in  the  sullen  light  seemed  placid 
as  marble,  then  softly  stole  out  of  the  door  and  sending  his 
valet  to  take  her  place  went  to  her  own  still  chamber. 

But  as  she  went,  Ralfe,  who  had  not  slumbered  for  a 
moment,  gazed  after  her  with  so  profound  a  pity  that  he 
almost  called  her  back  to  him,  but  did  not,  thinking, 
"  How  sad  she  is,  yet  who  would  have  dreamed  it !  She, 
too,  is  lonely.  She,  too,  loves.  She  chafes  at  her  bond 
age,  and  longs  with  secret  grief  to  give  her  pure  self  to 
another  !  Ah,  if  we  were  not  alone !  If  we  knew  that 
those  we  love  seek  us  with  equal  longing,  the  very  fact 
that  we  beat  our  wings  against  our  prison  bars  would 
have  something  indescribably  beautiful  and  comforting 
in  it,  for  then  the  circle  of  our  desires  were  rounded, 
and  wishes  would  fly  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  divine 
communication  !  Alone  ?  We  are  never  quite  that  after 
all ! "  for  some  verses  of  his  poem  which  had  haunted 
him  since  he  had  awakened,  again  ran  in  his  mind : 

"  Thou  dost  not  leave  us  quite  alone! 
We  sorrow  that  we  may  atone,  — 
We  suffer  that  our  aims  may  yet 
On  Thee  be  set,  on  Thee  be  set ! 


WILSON  SPEAKS  123 

Thy  love  doth  try  us  like  fine  gold. 
To  Thee  we  cling,  to  Thee  we  hold,  — 
Faith  keeps  us  close,  dear  Lord,  to  Thee! 
Our  Father  Thou,  Thy  children  we." 

Wilson  at  this  moment  appeared,  his  face  shining  with 
delight. 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  he,  a  suspicious  moisture  glistening  in 
his  eyes,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  alive  once  more  !  " 

Ralfe  laughed. 

"  Have  I  been  dead  ?  " 

"Nigh  to  it,  sir,  nigh  to  it!  If  it  had  not  been  for 
the  mistress,  you  would  have  been  gone,  I'm  a-thinkin'." 

"  No  doubt  you  also  deserve  much  credit,"  said  Ralfe 
very  kindly.  "  Tell  me,  Wilson,  how  long  have  I  been 
sick  ?  " 

"  About  ten  days." 

"  Are  all  the  guests  here  still  ?  " 

"  All  but  Miss  Visonti,  sir." 

"  When  did  she  go  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Fielding  sharply. 

"  As  soon  as  she  found  out  what  was  the  matter  with 
you,"  said  the  man,  honestly  putting  it  exactly  as  he 
thought.  He  began  to  mend  the  fire  with  considerable 
energy. 

"Why,  what  has  been  the  matter  with  me?"  cried 
his  master  as  loud  as  he  could  for  his  throat,  which  so 
mysteriously  troubled  him,  and  half  started  out  of  bed. 

"  Well,  besides  the  fever,  it  was  awful  catchin',"  said 
Wilson  turning  squarely  around.  "  You  have  about  up 
an'  died  with  diphtheria." 


124  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

LONGING. 

"  Th'  idea  of  her  life  shall  sweetly  creep 
Into  his  study  of  imagination,  — 
Into  the  eye  and  prospect  of  his  soul." 

Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

As  the  days  passed,  and  Ealfe  slowly  began  to  feel 
the  incoming  tide  of  health  sweep  over  his  waiting 
being,  he  somewhat  chafed  at  his  confinement  to  his 
rooms,  although  they  were  so  ample  and  luxurious.  His 
face  had  a  wistful  look  as  in  the  fresh  mornings  he  idly 
sat  at  the  open  window  and  saw  parties  of  guests  ride 
up  and  go  away,  or  the  few  who  still  remained  in  the 
house,  join  them  in  their  various  little  trips.  But  he 
could  not  fail  to  notice  how  seldom  Helen  was  to  be  seen 
among  them ;  or  if  she  stood  in  the  garden  and  waved 
them  a  gay  adieu,  she  soon  disappeared  within  the 
house,  to  gently  tap  at  his  door  and  request  him  to 
desire  something.  Seldom  she  came  empty-handed.  A 
choice  flower,  a  bunch  of  grapes,  a  new  picture,  a  book, 
—  always  her  pretty  white  hands  were  full,  and  her 
serene  countenance  touched  with  a  pleasant  smile.  If 
she  came  not,  he  missed  her,  and  while  he  would  say 
nothing  when  she  finally  appeared,  he  felt  a  very  keen 
desire  to  upbraid  her. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  before  ?  "  he  asked  her  rather 
sharply  one  day.  He  was  sorry  he  had  uttered  it  in  an 
instant.  His  tone  sounded  harsh  to  him.  He  was 
ashamed. 


A  TOUCH   OF  JOY  125 

But  she  only  answered  indifferently,  — "  Oh,  I  was 
busy,"  and  that  indifference  cut  him  to  the  quick. 
"Excuse  me,"  he  said  grimly. 

She  came  quite  near  to  him  then,  and  holding  a  sheet 
of  paper  in  her  hand,  blushed  a  little,  looked  at  him 
shyly,  and  finally  took  his  hand.  "  Ralfe,"  said  she,  hep 
big  eyes  blue  with  enthusiasm,  "  don't  laugh,  will  you  ?  " 

"  At  what  ?  " 

«  Me." 

"  You  ! "  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  me.  You  won't  ?  Truly  ?  Then  I  will  tell 
you.  I  have  written  a  sonnet,  —  and  for  you."  She 
drooped  those  golden  lashes  lower  and  lower  until  she 
seated  herself,  a  complete  personification  of  guilt. 

"  Let's  hear  it !  "  Ralfe  said,  heartily.  "  A  sonnet ! 
and  for  me  !  My  little  —  comrade  !  What  a  poet  you 
must  be  ! "  and  all  the  genial,  gracious,  tender  beauty  of 
his  soul  flashed  over  her  like  a  gentle  benediction.  She 
drew  a  contented  sigh,  and  holding  the  paper  very 
nicely  between  her  face  and  his,  was  about  to  read,  when 
she  suddenly  dropped  it.  "  Oh  !  I  forgot.  Don't  you 
remember,  you  never  read  me  the  poem  that  you  began 
that  day  Miss  Visonti  came?  You  had  just  opened  your 
lips  to  read  it,  when  she  stole  into  the  doorway  I  was 
so  disappointed.  Will  you  read  it  to  me  now  ? 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  mention  that,"  said  Ralfe  testily. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked,  innocently. 

"  I  was  disappointed  too,"  he  answered.  A  soft  flush 
crept  like  a  ray  of  light  over  the  sweet  countenance  before 
him.  A  look  of  joy  hidden  beneath  a  little  confused 
laugh,  transfigured  the  eyes  and  lips.  Ralfe  felt  a  sud 
den  tremor  of  happiness.  He  leaned  forward  and  shook 
one  of  her  ribbons  into  a  tiny  breeze.  "  Helen,  go  on  ! " 
he  said.  So,  with  a  gentle  dispossession  of  him  of  the 
ribbon,  in  which  she  lightly  touched  his  hand,  she  read 
softly,  — 


126        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

LONGING. 

Grant  but  this  one  rare  thing.  O  God,  to  me: 

This  single,  rich,  sweet  gift,  oh !  make  it  mine. 

Since  all  the  glories  of  the  earth  are  Thine, 

So  small  a  thing  were  never  missed  by  Thee. 

I  grow  so  tired  with  ever  gazing  far 

Across  the  weary  distance  to  my  need  *, 

Stretch  out  thy  hand,  dear  Lord,  and  break  the  bar, 

Letting  my  soul  for  once  be  wholly  freed ! 

Then,  having  gained  and  held  it  to  my  breast 

In  all  its  granted  wealth,  my  being,  thrilled 

With  gratitude  for  hopes  divinely  filled, 

And  all  the  love  of  one  so  deeply  blest, 

Shall  feel  the  strength  to  take  it  all,  and  know, 

Why  I  have  prayed  and  hungered  for  it  so. 

As  she  read,  forgetting  herself  and  him,  intent  upon 
her  theme,  a  curious  change  came  over  her  whole  being. 
The  flame  of  her  spirit  burned  with  a  penetrating  light, 
and  seemed  to  illumine  the  exquisite  vessel  which  con 
tained  it.  The  intellect,  active  and  strong,  intuitive 
and  poetic,  filled  the  delicate  features  with  a  finer 
beauty,  and  even  her  body  seemed  to  radiate  a  force  and 
a  charm  at  once.  Irresistibly  attracted  by  this  unknown 
power,  which  awakened  only  a  feeling  as  pure  yet  as 
fervent  as  might  some  angelic  vision,  he  drew  still 
nearer  and  nearer,  until  at  the  last  words,  he  swiftly 
drew  her  fair  head  close  to  his  breast,  and  kissing  her 
forehead  with  a  touch  of  sweetest  tenderness,  whis 
pered,  "  Dear  heart ! "  For  a  moment  this  light  clasp 
seemed  to  weld  them  in  a  harmony  too  beautiful  for 
thought ;  but  Helen,  with  a  face  white  with  emotion, 
gently  drew  away. 

"I  did  not  suppose  you  would  criticise  it  in  that  way," 
she  said  demurely,  looking  at  the  crumpled  paper  with  a 
dubious  expression.  "  Does  that  sort  of  criticism  usually 
please  authors  ?  "  and  she  smoothed  the  wrinkles  with 
a  thoughtful  movement. 


NOT  QUITE   A  BLANK  127 

"  Helen  !  "  said  Ralfe,  "  I  cannot  understand  myself  or 
you.  I  wish  you  would  go  away.  You  are  not  a  com 
rade  at  all,  and  you  are  not  a  wife,  and  you  are  not  a 
friend.  I  cannot  make  it  out,  what  you  are  or  I  am ! 
How  did  you  know  how  to  write  that  ?  And  what  made 
you  read  it  to  me  ?  Don't  you  know  you  tear  me  to 
pieces  ?  "  He  rushed  these  questions  at  her  in  a  burst. 

"I  know  I  tore  your  poem  that  day,"  she  answered 
with  a  laugh.  "But  no!  it  was  only  a  blank  sheet  of 
paper.  Maybe,"  she  added  consolingly,  "  you  might 
find  an  answer  to  all  your  questions  on  it.  Almost 
everything  seems  to  me  to  be  a  blank  at  times.  Life 
itself  is  a  lottery  in  which  we  too  often  draw  —  a  blank. 
I  presume  you  have  heard  that  rather  trite  idea  expressed 
before.  But  it  is  sufficiently  apropos." 

"What!"  asked  Ralfe,  amazed  and  aghast.  "Do  you 
allude  to  me  ?  " 

"Be  calm,"  said  Helen  torturingly.  "Ralfe,  you  do 
very  well.  No,  not  quite  a  blank,  I  think,  —  as  a  com 
rade."  And  she  rose  in  a  dignified  manner  and  left  him 
with  only  one  more  saucy  look. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  Sybil ! "  he  muttered,  looking 
after  her  in  half  wrath,  half  delight,  "I'd  flirt  her  little 
head  off !  Why,  by  heaven,  she  is  bewitching !  But, 
oh  !  ha,  ha !  Flirt  with  one's  wife  !  By  Jove,  and  feel 
one's  self  disloyal  to  do  it !  Was  there  ever  such  a  situa 
tion  in  the  world  ?  Confound  that  Sardia ! "  For  two 
rich  voices  rose  from  the  drawing-room,  blending  in 
passionate  song. 

How  well  he  knew  them !  Sardia's  tenor,  for  which 
he  was  famed  among  all  his  intimate  friends  and  lovers, 
and  which  he  scrupulously  concealed  from  every  one 
else.  Helen's  contralto,  divinely  rich  and  as  full  of 
longing  as  the  sonnet  she  had  so  recently  read  in  mel 
ancholy  tones  of  sweetness. 


128  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  I  do  very  well  for  a  comrade  ! "  he  said  aloud,  walk 
ing  quickly  to  a  large  mirror.  His  face  did  not  please  him. 
Illness  had  taken  its  bloom ;  confinement  had  stolen  its 
fulness.  He  could  fancy  he  saw  the  noble  head  of  Sardia 
bending  over  Helen  as  she  sang,  —  and  his  own  face  did 
not  please  him.  It  fell  into  a  still  deeper  shade  of  melan 
choly  as  he  looked.  "  She  is  right,"  he  murmured.  *'•'  I 
am  a  blank,  —  what  am  I  beside  him  ?  " 

Restlessly  he  paced  the  room  until  suddenly  he  stopped 
and  opened  the  door.  "  I  will  not  stay  shut  up  here  any 
longer,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  can  at  least  go  to  the  library." 
The  voices  had  ceased,  and  as  he  slowly  went  down  the 
great  staircase,  he  heard  them  in  a  ripple  of  conversa 
tion  on  a  little  balcony  just  outside  the  library  window, 
"  I  shall  surprise  them,"  he  thought  rather  sardonically, 
as  he  approached  the  curtains. 

Helen  had  added  to  her  costume,  since  in  his  room, 
some  great  bunches  of  pink  roses.  They  were  fastened 
in  sprays  at  her  belt,  they  were  caught  at  her  throat,  a 
glorious  blossom  was  hanging  heavily  from  her  hair, 
and  in  her  hand  were  two  or  three  clusters  which  she 
was  carelessly  whipping  against  her  skirts.  Her  beau 
tifully  modulated  voice,  so  easily  heard,  yet  so  mellow, 
seemed  continuing  an  earnest  conversation.  Sardia  was 
out  of  sight,  but  his  cane  was  occasionally  tapped  on 
the  balcony  as  if  by  his  idle  hand. 

"  I  am  being  slowly  educated  to  the  fact,"  Helen  was 
saying,  "  that  love  is  in  no  manner  selfish.  I  find  I  can 
love  largely,  broadly,  fully,  and  love  a  good  many  too. 
The  human  idea  is  to  love  one  and  one  only  !  I  believe 
the  diviner  idea  is  to  love  each  with  an  individual 
intensity  which  shall  be  all-satisfying  to  them  and  yet 
take  nothing  from  any.  The  limitations  of  the  human 
idea  of  division  in  love  have  often  fretted  my  soul ;  for 
there  is  a  notion  among  mortals,  that  if  you  love 


EMPTY  CUPS  129 

one  person,  it  must  be  all-absorbing,  or  else  it  is  not 
loyal ! " 

Sardia  remained  thoughtfully  silent  a  moment,  and 
then  quietly  answered,  "Love  can  never  be  exclusive 
with  me.  It  is  inclusive,  and  devotes  itself  in  different 
degrees  to  the  claims  and  needs  of  everybody.  Cannot 
I  love  my  mother  just  as  well  and  better  because  I  have 
found  my  ideal  woman  ?  Can  I  not  love  that  sweet 
woman  better  if  I  enlarge  my  heart  to  take  in  a  friend  ?  " 
His  voice  grew  deep  with  feeling,  his  very  intonation 
was  a  caress. 

Helen  raised  her  head  and  looked  straight  up  at  the 
sunny  sky.  She  heeded  nothing  but  the  thought  that 
pleased  her.  "  Love  is  universal  and  individual  at  once," 
she  uttered  in  a  low,  reverent  voice.  "  It  broods  with 
exquisite  protection  over  the  helpless  and  the  sorrowing ; 
it  wings  its  way  joyously  to  the  empyrean  with  the  glad 
and  the  aspiring.  To  each,  to  all,  it  bears  a  message  of 
heavenly  tenderness,  right  out  of  the  heart  of  the  Source 
of  love,  and  he  whose  cup  is  largest  and  able  to  contain 
the  most,  drinks  deepest  of  its  nectar." 

Both  men  listened  to  her  with  the  same  conviction. 
Ralfe,  retiring  silently  to  his  own  room,  and  Sardia  still 
apparently  gazing  indifferently  at  the  pretty  garden 
landscape,  said  each  in  his  secret  soul, — 

"  How  beautiful,  and  how  unapproachable,   she  is  ! " 

Sardia  looked  up. 

"  But  sometimes  we  love  so  blindly,  or  we  find  our 
selves  utterly  unrequited!  We  hold  up  our  cup, — it 
may  be  a  very  large  cup,  —  but  it  remains  unfilled. 
What  shall  we  do  then  ?  " 

Helen  turned  suddenly  and  looked  him  wistfully  in 
the  face. 

"  I  constantly  renew  my  efforts  to  care  as  little  as 
possible  for  this  slow  healing  wound  in  the  body  of 


130  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Cupid ! "  said  she,  and  unconsciously  laid  her  hand  on 
her  heart  as  if  she  felt  a  pang. 

"  0  God ! "  cried  Sardia,  catching  her  hand  and  press 
ing  it  between  his  palms,  "  I  know  how  to  pity  you." 

The  look  of  pain  deepened  in  each  face,  and  they  sank 
into  silence,  both  falling  into  one  of  those  distressing 
states  of  thought  which  were  the  sharp  thorns  of  their 
rose  of  friendship. 

He  so  niadly  loving  her,  yet  with  a  divine  purpose 
holding  himself  ever  in  check.  She,  woman-like,  leaning 
on  his  stronger  nature,  while  by  so  leaning  she  drew  his 
soul  to  hers,  in  bonds  unbreakable  !  And  each  full  of  a 
hopeless  and  agonized  devotion,  —  mocked  by  the  very 
nectar  they  craved,  held  just  away  from  their  lips ! 

Kalfe,  sitting  silently  and  moodily  at  his  window, 
slowly  repeated  the  last  line  of  the  sonnet,  which  came 
tripping  into  his  memory.  "  '  Why  I  have  longed  and 
hungered  for  it  so  ! '  What  can  it  be  ?  "  he  thought. 
"  Out  of  what  despair  could  come  such  a  cry  ?  Is  it 
freedom  ?  Freedom  to  love  him,  —  to  be  loved  by  him  ? 
Xo  !  I  will  not  endure  the  thought !  She  is  mine,  mine  ! 
Can  I  not  fill  her  life  with  joy  ?  Would  not  my  love  be 
worth  —  something  ?  It  must  be  !  It  shall !  " 

Sybil  for  once  Avas  forgotten  ! 


EARLY  AUTUMN  131 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

IN    A    NET. 

"  Much  like  a  subtle  spider  that  doth  sit 
In  middle  of  her  web  that  spreadeth  wide." 

Davies. 

"  Our  souls  sit  close  and  silently  within, 
And  their  own  web  from  their  own  entrails  spin." 

Dryden. 

DURING  Ealfe's  illness,  one  afternoon,  Guy  and  Lulu 
had  wandered  across  the  lawn  to  a  large  clump  of  trees 
situated  quite  a  distance  from  the  house.  They  often 
stole  apart  from  the  others,  —  a  proceeding  which  was- 
smilingly  ignored.  It  was  a  still,  slumberous,  mellow 
day  of  earliest  autumn,  following  a  sudden  and  unusu 
ally  cold  rainstorm.  The  sunshine  sifted  hotly  through 
the  trees,  which  were  dropping  their  dying  leaves  with 
the  soft,  rustling  patter  so  familiar  to  those  Avho  are  at 
home  in  the  woods.  The  moist  earth  was  teeming  with 
odorous  balsamic  scents  from  the  unfolding  blossoms  of 
wild  asters,  the  spicy  smell  of  the  laurel  bushes,  and  all 
the  varied  natural  perfumes  of  mingled  sea  and  shore. 
One  light  yellow  butterfly  hovered  disconsolately  over  a 
budding  golden-rod,  feebly  fluttering  his  half-chilled 
wings,  but  higher  in  air  a  great  cluster  of  silver  midges 
danced,  swung  and  circled  about  each  other,  as  if  indeed 
winter  were  a  thing  uncared  for  and  unknown.  The  rich 
warmth  of  the  atmosphere  made  them  jolly  and  light  of 
heart  indeed.  They  greeted  each  other  with  sounds  of 
pleasure,  and  seemed  to  be  having  their  dance  in  honor 
of  some  gay  occasion. 


132  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

Lulu  was  a  close  observer  of  nature,  and  now  she  called 

Guy's  attention  to  this  pretty  festival.  They  watched 
it  with  admiration  and  wonder.  How  human  were  their 
movements  !  A  party  would  retire  from  the  circle,  and 
then  leaving  their  positions,  going  into  the  midst,  would 
to  their  own  music,  set  their  light  bodies  in  motion. 
Backward  and  forward,  swinging  and  circling,  now  in 
couples,  now  alone,  now  in  groups  of  threes  and  fours, 
advancing,  retreating,  and  with  inimitable  ease  dropping 
below  or  rising  above  the  others,  —  these  tiny  insects 
put  the  sinuous  grace  of  Eastern  dancing  girls  to  shame, 
and  in  the  natural  freedom  of  every  invisible  curve  they 
traced  could  be  seen  the  symmetrical  design  and  harmony 
in  the  mind  of  Him  who  is  the  soul  and  life  of  beauty. 

Far  up  in  the  walnut  trees,  sudden  gusts  of  wind  shook 
the  topmost  branches,  and  as  the  lovers  sauntered  along, 
on  the  yellow  leaves  about  them  would  fall  at  long  inter 
vals  a  single  decayed  nut,  with  the  muffled  sound  so 
appropriate  to  the  season.  The  pine  needles  were 
polished  enough  to  be  slippery  as  glass  beneath  their 
feet,  and  here  and  there  hidden  in  part  by  a  mossy  stone, 
or  standing  bravely  out  to  meet  the  day,  were  scarlet 
dots  of  bright-eye  berries,  with  their  creeping  sprays  of 
round  green  leaves.  They  walked  along,  chatting  in 
Lu's  own  jolly  and  childlike  way,  until,  finding  an  open 
spot  where  the  grass  was  dry  and  warm,  they  seated 
themselves  on  a  fallen  log  which  had  been  formed  into 
a  sort  of  rustic  sofa. 

The  intercourse  between  Lulu  and  her  lover  was  of 
that  rare  kind  which  savored  more  of  loyalty  than  sen 
timent.  Their  conversation,  although  tinctured  with 
a  tenderness  and  sweet  courtesy  which  would  instantly 
have  proclaimed  them  to  be  lovers,  was  for  the  most  part, 
of  subjects  more  thoroughly  practical  than  what  in  the 
slang  of  the  clay  might  pardonably  be  called  "  intense." 


GUY  THORNE  133 

Simple  and  well-bred,  they  possessed  the  negative  quali 
ties  of  human  nature  to  perfection.  While  the  negative 
qualities  are  invariably  the  finer,  more  delicate,  more 
spiritual,  perhaps  those  possessing  them  are  worthy  of 
but  little  praise  ;  for  they  are  always  inborn  in  the  indi 
vidual.  There  is  in  the  true  man  or  woman  a  subtle 
attribute  which  stamps  each  as  a  lady  or  a  gentleman. 
None  can  mistake  it.  In  whatever  situation  they  may 
be,  whether  of  embarrassment,  poverty  or  riches,  ovation 
or  insult,  they  preserve  that  one  unspeakable  grace  which 
neither  a  crown  can  make  more  beautiful  nor  rags  render 
less  lovely.  These  two  possessed  this  distinction  in  a 
remarkable  degree,  for  they  added  to  it  many  positive 
virtues,  among  which  honor  was  the  most  prominent. 

There  was  in  the  Englishman,  however,  a  tone  of  cool, 
phlegmatic  indifference  which  characterized  him  among 
his  men  friends  as  "  a  deuced  slow-blooded  fellow."  Yet 
there  burned  within  him  a  depth  of  passion  which 
might  have  led  him  far  astray,  had  he  not  a  keen  distaste 
for  the  general  follies  of  ordinary  fast  life.  He  wished 
to  be  always  certain  of  his  moral  integrity,  and  he  de 
spised  as  bad  taste  the  indulgences  which  others  less 
manly  believed  to  be  even  fastidiously  elegant.  He 
was  by  no  means  so  idle  as  he  appeared.  His  affairs  ex 
tended  from  east  to  west  and  from  ISTew  York  to  the 
continent.  But  with  a  keen  eye  to  his  investments,  a 
shrewd  judgment  and  quick  decision,  he  managed  to  pre 
serve  that  best  of  advantages  —  sufficient  leisure  to 
enjoy  both  business  and  social  intercourse  with  a  quiet 
zest.  There  was  a  vein  of  pleasantry  in  him  that  fre 
quently  cropped  out  in  his  speech,  which  spoke  of  the 
jovial  humor  of  his  heart,  and  Lulu  often  found  him 
sufficiently  merry  to  make  the  dullest  day  full  of  sun 
shine.  To-day  he  was  in  one  of  his  happiest  moods,  and 
seemed  interested  in  every  trifle  as  they  laughingly 


134  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

talked.  She  had  a  dainty  little  box  of  artists'  utensils, 
and  as  she  chatted  she  sketched,  while  he,  tired  of  his 
position,  finally  flung  himself  with  boyish  grace  upon 
the  ground.  A  little  scrub  oak  grew  beside  Lulu,  and  as 
one  or  two  glossy  leaves  detached  themselves  and  floated 
away,  she  let  fall  her  pencil  and  watched  them  idly  in 
silence,  thinking  of  little  save  the  blue  dome  above  her, 
the  genial  warmth  of  the  sun,  and  the  refreshing  odors 
which,  without  effort  of  hers,  were  blown  with  all  their 
aromatic  fragrance  to  her  nostrils. 

"  How  dear  and  lovely  life  appears ! "  suddenly  mur 
mured  Guy.  "  There  is  nothing  in  all  the  scene  which 
speaks  of  unhappiness.  The  general  beginning  of  decay 
is  but  the  precedence  of  a  new  birth  into  gladness.  The 
very  winds  are  tuned  to  a  subdued  but  tender  melody. 
One  might  easily  believe  that  wrong,  outrage,  selfishness, 
fraud  or  cruelty  had  no  existence.  We  are  at  this 
moment  possessed  of  a  little  space 

'  Within  whose  circuit  is  Elysium, 
And  all  that  poets  feign  of  bliss  or  joy.'  " 

Lulu  did  not  reply.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  with  eager 
interest  upon  something  evidently  within  the  leaves  of 
the  oak. 

"  What  do  you  see  ?  "  he  asked,  lazily. 

"  Hush  !  "  she  whispered  softly,  holding  up  her  finger, 
"don't  look.  Let  me  tell  you  and  see  if  you  can  guess.'' 

Thome  turned  his  head  so  that  the  mellow  sunshine 
played  on  the  dark,  healthy  hue  of  his  cheek  and  smil 
ing  in  anticipation,  said  gently,  "  Go  on,  love." 

"  I  see,"  said  Lulu,  all  her  tones  indicating  the  most 
vivid  interest,  "a  curious  little  creature.  She  is  gray 
and  spotted  and  hairy.  Her  undervest  is  muddy  yellow, 
and  her  legs  are  butternut  brown.  She  has  piercing, 
wary,  suspicious  eyes.  She  is  a  small  bundle  of  obser- 


A  SPIDER  SONG  135 

vation.  There  is  not  a  movement  of  hers  that  does  not 
show  her  to  be  on  the  alert.  She  is  both  on  the  defen 
sive  and  the  aggressive.  Her  whole  being  is  made  up 
of  unconquerable  industry,  intuitive  watchfulness  and 
supreme  cunning.  Self-interest  is  displayed  in  the  very 
way  she  twists  her  hind  legs  together,  and  knots  with 
precision  and  swiftness  the  web  she  is  weaving." 

"  Oho,  little  lady  !  a  spider,  a  spider ! " 

Lulu  laughed  and  blushed  with  amused  pique.  "  To 
think  I  should  have  told  right  out ! "  said  she. 

"  Pray  go  on,"  urged  her  lover. 

"  Self-preservation  and  self-indulgence  are  seen  in  the 
deep,  well-covered  cave  she  has  manufactured,  into  which 
she  can  crawl  and  hide  from  danger,  or  sit  at  ease  and 
view  the  helpless  struggles  of  her  prey.  She  is  indeed 
a  very  wicked-looking  spider." 

"  Do  you  know  they  can  sing  ?  " 

Lulu  looked  incredulous.  He  went  on,  "  It  is  believed 
by  many  that  a  spider  cannot  even  converse.  But  I  think 
I  can  convince  you  that  to  a  fine  ear,  accustomed  by  long 
and  loving  observation  of  nature's  music  to  catch  the 
faintest  sound,  she  sings  a  low,  tragic,  mysterious  song. 
Listen  and  see  if  dear  old  Prince  Will  does  not  put  her 
crooning  into  words ; "  and  in  a  soft,  buzzing  tone  he  half 
repeated,  half  hummed,  — 

"  '  Fair  is  foul,  and  foul  is  fair, 

Hover  through  the  fog  and  filthy  air. 
I'll  drain  him  dry  as  hay; 
Sleep  shall  neither  night  nor  day 
Hang  upon  his  penthouse  lid ; 
He  shall  live  a  thing  forbid. 
Weary  sev'n-nights,  nine  times  nine, 
Shall  he  dwindle,  peak  and  pine.'  " 

The  spider  which  they  had  both  been  watching  had 
until  this  moment  been  busily  at  work  enlarging  her  web, 


136  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

but  now  Lulu  exclaimed,  "  I  believe,  dearest,  you  have 
chanted  that  poor  victim's  death-knell." 

While  she  spoke  a  very  small  honey-bee  became  caught 
within  an  inch  of  the  cave.  The  spider  knew  it  the 
moment  he  touched  the  web,  but  she  had  perfect  confi 
dence  in  her  work.  They  anticipated  that  she  would  in 
stantly  approach  him  so  that  she  might  more  certainly 
ensnare  him,  but  they  were  astonished  to  note  the  cool 
ness  of  her  movements.  She  stopped  weaving,  and  with 
that  peculiarly  angular  motion  which  spiders  have,  she 
turned  with  one  straight  bound,  so  that  she  sat  sideways 
towards  the  intruder ;  then,  with  a  sly,  subtle,  quiet  sat 
isfaction,  she  settled  herself  well  into  her  airy  swing,  and 
began  to  puff  herself  out.  She  watched  that  unfortu 
nate  bee  with  a  fiendish  and  most  deliberate  pleasure. 
As  with  many  a  wrathful  and  finally  despairing  buzz  he 
endeavored  to  loosen  his  feet  and  wings,  but  only  suc 
ceeded  in  more  closely  entangling  them,  she  made  the 
whole  web  about  her  tremble,  whether  with  malicious 
laughter  they  knew  not,  but  certainly  with  an  emotion 
which  set  her  whole  disagreeable  little  body  in  spasmodic 
action.  Having  seen  that  it  needed  no  further  effort 
of  hers  to  hold  him  fast,  she  shrank  to  her  ordinary  size 
and  went  again  to  work  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Lulu  had  watched  all  this  with  twenty  expressions 
crossing  her  face.  She  now  put  forth  her  little  hand 
and  exclaimed  indignantly,  "  I  will  rescue  him  !  " 

Guy  caught  it,  however,  his  face  charged  with  a  slow, 
indefinite  scorn.  "No,  let  us  wait  and  see  the  end  of 
the  tragedy.  It  will  teach  us  its  lesson.  Look,  she  has 
returned  to  him."  It  had  not  taken  her  spidership  long 
to  complete  her  task.  When  she  had  fastened  the  last 
rope,  with  a  slow,  cautious,  apparently  timid  motion, 
she  crawled  towards  what  was  at  last  to  be  her  supper. 
She  had  not  arrived  half  way  before  he  set  up  a  cry  of 


THE  SYMBOL  137 

defiance.  She  stopped  and  measured  his  proportions, 
went  around  him  on  her  fairy  ladder,  and  satisfied  her 
self  that  in  no  wise  he  could  get  away  ;  and  then,  with 
the  insolence  of  power,  sat  immediately  in  front  of  him 
and  began  to  swell  herself  out.  This  was  more  than 
his  knighthood  could  endure.  He  forgot  her  sex.  He 
forgot  his  own  desperate  condition.  He  roared  out  his 
hatred  and  contempt  with  a  thousand  twirls  of  his  legs 
and  twists  of  his  head.  At  this  she  became  infuriated. 
With  the  utmost  ease  avoiding  his  sting,  she  drew  her 
slimy  body  over  and  about  him  until  she  had  enveloped 
him  with  her  strong  cables,  and  then,  over  his  very  head 
she  wove  a  nightcap' which  silenced  him  forever.  The 
skill  and  courage  she  displayed  in  passing  and  repassing 
his  fiery  weapon,  the  cool  trustfulness  in  her  own  ingen 
ious  trap,  the  insolent  enjoyment  of  the  anguish  of  her 
victim,  the  prosaic  yet  wonderfully  successful  plan  by 
which  she  shut  her  enemy's  mouth,  and  her  subsequent 
retirement  into  her  self-constructed  castle,  there  to  re 
cruit  after  her  exertion  and  prepare  herself  for  supper, 
awakened  in  the  human  beings  who  watched  her,  feelings 
of  horror  and  disgust. 

"Do  you  not  see  a  symbol,  Lulu,  in  this  scene,  of 
those  natures  among  our  kind,  who,  grasping,  cunning, 
and  cruel,  endowed  with  wisdom,  power,  and  efficiency 
of  action,  spend  their  lives  in  building  for  self  alone  ?  " 
She  crept  closer  to  her  lover  and  nestled  her  hand  in  his 
as  he  proceeded.  "  These  make  of  their  existences 
snares,  into  which  are  drawn  generosity,  bravery  and 
innocence,  to  be  insulted,  imposed  upon,  and  finally 
strangled,  as  was  the  valiant  honey-bee.  These  must 
have  their  supper,  though  it  be  from  the  dead  body  of 
all  that  is  sweet,  benevolent,  and  manly." 

"  How  bitterly  you  speak,  dear,"  she  murmured.  "  Can 
it  be  that  you  have  known  such  people  ?  " 


138  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

"Who  has  not? "he  answered.  "If  they  cover  the 
true  soul  of  themselves  with  an  outward  show  of  sweet 
manners  and  professed  goodness,  underneath  is  working 
the  real  nature  of  the  spider.  Do  you  not  know  one 
whose  secret  being  might  be  appropriately  represented 
by  this  ?  "  and  he  pointed  with  a  gesture  of  aversion  to 
the  cobweb. 

She  shuddered  a  little  and  pressed  closer  to  his  side. 
"  I  know  whom  you  mean,"  she  almost  whispered.  "  Ever 
since  I  gave  you  some  little  idea  of  my  evening  in 
Sybil's  room,  you  have  seemed  to  hate  her." 

"  Darling,  darling,"  he  answered  in  a  strained  and  un 
natural  voice.  "  God  forgive  me  if  I  do  her  wrong,  but  I 
have  watched  her  closely  ever  since  she  came  to  this 
place,  and  I  have  indeed  grown  to  feel  a  strong  and  ever- 
increasing  dislike.  Do  not  listen  to  her !  Do  not  be 
alone  with  her  one  moment ;  will  you,  my  innocent 
love  ? "  He  looked  into  her  face  with  an  anxiety 
which  was  even  a  stronger  warning  than  his  words. 

"  She  could  not  influence  me  to  do  wrong  !  "  exclaimed 
Lulu  with  considerable  pride. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  he  answered  with  equal  pride,  but 
added  gently,  "  I  have  seen  large  brown  spots  suddenly 
appear  on  the  most  perfect  and  fragrant  magnolia,  after 
it  had  been  simply  breathed  upon  !" 

Lulu  understood.  "I  promise,  dear.  Indeed,  I  was 
going  to  speak  with  you  about  it.  You  must  be  a 
mother  to  me  as  well  as  a  lover,  now  that  I  am  so  far 
away,"  and  she  lifted  her  trusting  face  with  a  reverent 
look.  "I  do  not  know  —  but  she  fascinates,  yet  repels 
me.  I  wish  to  sit  beside  her,  I  long  to  touch  her.  Her 
dark  beauty  appeals  to  me  with  a  strange  power,  and 
yet,  if  she  touches  me,  if  she  kisses  me,  as  she  so  often 
does  when  I  least  expect  it,  I  become  so  angry  in  a 
minute  that  I  could  strike  her." 


BLIND  EYES  139 

"Avoid  her!  ]STever  touch  her!  Do  not  permit  her 
to  kiss  you  ! "  cried  Guy,  earnestly.  "  But  this  has 
indeed  been  a  sober  ending  to  our  little  walk."  He  rose 
and  shook  himself  as  if  to  throw  off  an  evil  impres 
sion.  "Let  us  go  and  forget  in  some  sweet  deed  this 
strange  little  drama  of  the  woods." 

"  Helen  wished  me  to  go  and  carry  a  large  package  of 
wine  and  delicacies  to  a  poor  old  black  woman  she  knows 
in  the  town.  I  have  been  two  or  three  times  before 
with  her.  Let  us  go  now.  Will  you  order  a  carriage  ?  " 
So  these  two  young  people  who  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  wicked  or  ignoble  deeds,  with  the  soft  rays  of  the 
declining  sun  shedding  a  glory  about  them,  drove  along 
towards  the  humble  cottage  where  they  would  carry 
help  and  comfort  and  benediction  to  one  who  forgot  pain 
and  poverty  in  their  merry  voices.  They  left  the  small 
gray  spider  looking  out  from  her  den  and  gloating  over 
her  victim  with  ever-watchful  eyes.  They  did  not 
molest  her.  Why  should  they  ?  She  was  irresponsible. 
She  had  acted  out  her  nature.  But  forth  from  the  one 
thing  beautiful  about  her,  the  gossamer  web  which  she 
had  spun,  might  easily  have  been  imagined  to  come  the 
sound  of 

"Weary  sev'n-niglits,  nine  times  nine, 
Shall  he  dwindle,  peak  and  pine." 

Lulu  was  very  thoughtful  all  the  evening,  and  as  she 
was  taking  down  her  glossy  brown  hair  for  the  night, 
she  nodded  two  or  tkree  times  gravely  at  her  reflection 
in  the  mirror,  and  said,  confidentially,  — 

"  And  Ralfe  is  the  honey-bee  ! " 

Yet  she  was  looking  into  her  own  eyes. 


140  SARDIA:   A  STORY   OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

AT    LAST ! 

"  Sometimes  we  are  devils  to  ourselves, 
When  we  will  teinpt  the  frailty  of  our  powers." 

Troilus  and  Cressida; 

"Sufficient  to  have  stood,  though  free  to  fall." 

Milton. 

RALFE'S  convalescence  was  now  rapid.  Not  many 
days  passed  before  he  could  go  into  other  apartments,  and 
soon  he  habitually  sought  the  library,  where,  reposing 
in  some  great  chair  or  lying  on  an  easy  lounge,  every  one 
vied  to  render  his  hours  gay  with  their  society,  or  else 
scrupulously  avoided  disturbing  his  frequent  intervals 
of  enforced  quiet.  Miss  Yisonti  had  returned  after  a 
few  days,  and  seemed  filled  with  a  desire  to  please  every 
one  with  whom  she  came  in  contact.  Even  Sarclia  was 
half  charmed  from  his  suspicion  by  the  gentle,  but  in 
different,  manner  she  displayed  towards  Ralfe,  and  her 
evident  wish  to  avoid  being  alone  with  him,  sin,ce  she 
invariably  managed  to  be  accompanied. 

Ralfe  chafed  and  fretted  with  inward  rage.  Was  it 
fate,  or  was  it  Sybil  herself,  who  put  this  barrier  forever 
between  them  ?  Should  he  never  regain  his  strength  and 
be  able  to  command  her  presence  for  a  moment  ? 

She  had  brought  with  her,  as  a  pretext  for  her  trip  to 
Xew  York,  a  superb  bas-relief  of  the  head  of  the  elder 
Delsarte,  which  she  averred  had  been  detained  in  the 
custom-house  and  which  for  some  reason  she  had  had 
great  difficulty  in  securing.  Displaying  the  portrait  on 


THE  UNDERLYING  UNITY  141 

an  easel,  she  stood  before  it  in  an  attitude  of  proud 
humility.  "  The  great  master !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  If  I 
have  anything  of  grace  about  me,  it  is  from  close  study 
of  his  art ! "  And  with  a  worshipping  abandonment 
she  threw  herself  on  a  low  cricket  and  gazed  admiringly 
at  the  stern,  cold,  intellectual  features.  "  What  an 
elevation  of  soul  comes  to  one  who  can  understand,  even 
so  slightly  as  I,  the  deep  mysterious  unity  of  being 
which  underlay  all  his  teachings  !  And  how  impossible 
to  communicate  to  the  uninitiated,  the  subtle  fascination 
of  his  laws  !  " 

"  But  what  is  the  result  of  them  ? "  asked  Charlie 
Vane,  who  was  prone  to  go  straight  to  the  end  of  any 
thing. 

Sybil  rose  with  a  grace  that  could  be  felt,  as  well  as 
seen,  and  stood  before  him  with  a  triumphant  smile. 

"  I  am  answered ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  the  others,  in 
spite  of  their  varied  feelings  towards  her,  involuntarily 
admitted  their  appreciation. 

Signor  Zante,  who  happened  to  be  present,  with  his 
soft  old  hand  patted  her  gently  on  the  arm.  "Well 
done ! "  said  he.  "  I  knew  both  the  Delsartes,  and  I 
could  fancy  they  had  inspired  you  ?" 

"  You  studied  in  Venice,  did  you  not  ? "  remarked 
Sardia  with  the  quiet  manner  of  one  who  knows  what 
will  be  replied.  "  Whom  did  you  find  there  to  properly 
supplement  the  great  Frenchman  ?  " 

Sterility  of  invention  was  not  her  fault.  "  Only  his 
charts  and  rules,  under  his  son's  previous  direction," 
she  replied.  "I  allowed  myself  to  think  of  nothing 
else  whatever.  I  devoted  myself  to  study  for  months," 
and  she  turned  to  the  examination  of  the  plaque. 

"And  your  object  ?  "  queried  Helen.  "  Did  you  mean 
to  teach  ?  " 

"  To  cultivate  myself,"  she  answered  scornfully.    "  That 


142  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

is  just  like  you  New  Englanders.  You  must  always 
make  a  practical  use  of  everything.  I  presume  it  seems 
absurd  to  you  to  wish  to  become  cultured  for  one's  own 
sake.  You  think,  perhaps,  that  if  I  study  the  dramatic 
art,  my  object  should  be  to  go  upon  the  stage,  and 
make  money.  That  only  is  consistence  here.  I  prefer 
to  be  inconsistent !  "  and  her  lip  curved  to  an  unmistak 
able  sneer. 

"But  would  it  not  be  very  sweet  to  have  an  object 
outside  of  one's  self  after  all  ?  "said  Helen,  gently  ignor 
ing  her  manner.  "To  share  the  delights  of  culture 
seems  to  me  a  very  high  object.  Sympathetic  natures 
are  so  few,  self-centred  ones  so  many.  And  you  with 
your  intense  personality  might  give  such  exquisite  pleas 
ure  by  imparting  what  you  may  have  gained.  I  think, 
perhaps,  you  wrong  us  when  you  attribute  a  mercenary 
or  practical  desire  in  everything.  But  there  is  a  terrible 
lack  of  expression  of  which  an  Italian  may  well  com 
plain.  "VYe  are  exclusive  of  the  individual.  We  give 
to  the  world  insipid  generalities." 

"  The  American  is  notorious  for  spending  money  right 
and  left.  Generous  with  worldly  goods,  and  free  with 
gold,  we  hug  the  wealth  of  our  own  natures  tight  to  our 
selves,  and  hold  our  best  ideas  as  if  contact  with  others 
were  contamination.  "What  true  conversation  do  we 
have  here  ?  " 

"  We  are  diffident,"  said  Guy.      "  That  is  one  reason." 

Every  one  shouted,  "  A  Yankee  diffident !  A  Yankee 
shy  !  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  Well,  that  is 
delicious  !  "  they  exclaimed  amidst  universal  laughter. 

"It  is  a  fact,"  he  replied  doggedly,  "nevertheless. 
The  American  may  talk  and  brag  and  bluster  and 
splurge  a  great  deal ;  but  after  all,  down  in  his  heart  he 
is  as  retiring  and  diffident  as  a  shy  child.  I  mean  that 
the  very  noblest,  sweetest,  richest  impulses  and  emotions 


THE  AMERICAN  RINGS  TRUE  143 

of  his  complex  nature  are  hidden  under  this  very  ex 
terior.  The  sayings,  '  He  puts  his  worst  foot  foremost/ 
and  '  His  tongue  is  his  own  worst  enemy,'  are  very  true 
of  him,  and  he  too  often  covers  the  delicacies  of  his  soul 
with  a  crust  of  crudeness  and  folly.  It  is  the  crisis  that 
proves  the  American.  Then  his  stability  appears.  Then 
he  rings  true  ! " 

"Our  history  proves  that,  I  think,"  remarked  Charlie 
Vane.  "But  on  an  average  we  mutely  plod  through  life, 
seldom  if  ever  showing  out  our  souls  even  to  our  own." 

"  There  is  still  an  English  strain  in  us,"  laughed  Kalfe. 
"  I  am  not  surprised  that  Miss  Visonti,  or  any  foreigner, 
should  consider  the  American  people  purely  practical. 
Why,  even  our  very  grief  we  hold  in  check  !  We  think 
it  unmanly,  if  when  to  our  lips  is  pressed  the  bitterest 
draught,  we  let  the  tears  flow !  To  make  a  scene  were 
dreadful.  To  let  the  true  natural  emotion  vent  itself 
in  appreciative  sobs  or  laughter,  in  glad  speeches  or 
sympathetic  applause,  were  to  be  pronounced  green, 
countrified,  verdant,  and  unsophisticated !  " 

"Another  thing  !  We  exclude  from  our  conversation 
all  that  hints  of  Heaven.  Keligion  has  become  nothing 
but  an  argument.  We  do  not  talk  of  it  to  men  as  we 
pray  it  to  God.  We  do  not  confess  that  we  pray  at  all, 
—  or,  if  we  do,  it  is  with  a  tone  of  apology.  All  that  is 
sweet  and  quick  within  us,  we  cover  with  the  silks  of 
form  and  velvets  of  ceremony,  or  secrete  under  a  brusque 
indifference,  a  rough  witticism,  or  a  rigid  silence.  How 
much  of  Eden  we  lose  daily  ! " 

As  they  talked,  all  had  moved  slowly  out  of  the  room, 
excepting  Kalfe  and  Sybil,  who  still  remained  ;  the  one 
lying  on  the  lounge  by  the  breezy  vine-embowered  win 
dow,  the  other  still  leaning  against  the  richly  draped 
portrait  of  Delsarte.  She  spoke  in  a  cheerfully  indif 
ferent  tone  of  the  execution,  coloring  and  likeness,  and 


144  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

having  settled  it  to  her  satisfaction,  glanced  unconcern 
edly  over  her  shoulder  and  said,  — 

"  By  the  way,  you  can  do  me  a  little  favor  if  you 
choose." 

Ralfe  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  I  shall  be  charmed,"  said  he. 

Sybil  laughed. 

"  Does  it  confuse  you  ?  "  she  questioned  shrewdly  ; 
"  that  is  what  you  always  say  when  you  are  annoyed  ! " 

"  On  the  contrary.  What  can  I  do,  what  may  I  do  to 
serve  you  ?  " 

"  Lend  me  some  money,"  she  answered,  dropping  her 
eyes.  And  then  raising  them  and  looking  straight  at 
him,  "  I  must  have  it,  or  I  would  not  ask." 

Ealfe  felt  his  whole  heart  flow  out  to  her  in  sympathy. 
The  bluntness,  the  straightforwardness  of  the  request, 
must  cover  the  keenest  sensitiveness,  the  deepest  humil 
iation.  He  instantly  took  out  his  purse  and  handed  it 
to  her,  and  then  scratched  his  signature  on  a  blank  check. 

She  daintily  toyed  with  the  purse,  shook  out  a  gold 
piece  or  two  in  her  hand,  pulled  out  some  bills,  and 
selecting  four,  shut  the  purse  nicely  and  handed  it  back 
to  him  saying,  — 

"  This  will  do,  thanks." 

She  had  taken  four  one-hundred-dollar  bills.  He  had 
drawn  five  hundred  the  day  before,  and  had  used  but 
little. 

"  How  fortunate  that  I  could  do  you  this  trifling  ser 
vice  ! "  he  said,  in  a  self-congratulatory  tone,  "  I  am  not 
always  so  lucky !  " 

She  passed  along  to  where  some  of  the  guests  were 
standing  in  various  costumes,  awaiting  the  carriages  to 
take  them  on  their  usual  morning  jaunts.  Some  were 
bound  for  fishing,  some  for  shopping,  one  or  two  for  the 
sea-bath,  and  Helen  was  already  equipped  for  a  long 


LOST  EDEN  145 

promised  horseback  ride  with  Sardia,  who  stood  holding 
her  horse,  not  trusting  the  groom  to  place  her  in  the  sad 
dle.  From  one  of  the  great  overflowing  urns,  Sybil 
gathered  a  bunch  of  glowing  scarlet  geranium  whose 
pungent  odor  seemed  to  suit  her  mood,  and  after  wav 
ing  them  all  a  graceful  adieu,  slowly  returned  to  the 
library,  where  Ralfe  still  reclined  in  the  soft,  dim, 
morning  light,  sifted  through  myriads  of  leaves.  Coin 
ing  softly  behind  his  couch  and  bending  over  him,  she 
repeated  musingly,  — 

"  How  much  of  Eden  we  lose  daily  !  " 

Ralfe,  who  had  tremblingly  awaited  this  meeting,  was 
filled  with  so  intense  an  excitement  that  he  remained 
silent  and  motionless.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  cul 
mination  of  his  life  were  reached;  as  if  the  crest  of  the 
topmost  wave  were  rolling  over  him.  All  previous 
existence  in  instantaneous  panorama  rushed  across  his 
soul's  vision,  only  to  make  this  moment  the  seeming  end 
and  aim  of  all. 

She  moved  her  dark,  flower-like  face  a  little  nearer, 
pressing  the  blood-red  blossoms  to  her  breathing  bosom, 
and  fixed  her  eyes  full  upon  him.  Those  eyes,  deepen 
ing,  expanding,  glowing,  suddenly  grew  liquid  with  un 
shed  tears.  He  raised  his  arms  with  a  yearning,  eager 
gesture,  and  in  an  ecstasy  too  deep  for  words,  drew  her 
throbbing  heart  close  to  his  own. 

"  At  last !  "  they  mutually  murmured. 

Then  dropping  on  her  knees  as  if  exhausted,  her  arm 
close  about  his  head,  her  soft,  magnetic  fingers  twined 
in  his  curls,  the  thrills  of  her  fervent  touch  flooding  him 
with  tropical  languor  and  fire,  his  heart  in  a  resistless 
torrent  poured  out  its  long-pent  worship  in  distracted 
sentences,  exclamations,  fantastic  love-words :  —  the 
depths  of  his  whole  self-contained  nature  breaking  up 
and  yielding  inevitably  to  the  spell.  From  her  seemed 


146  SARDIA;  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

to  fall  distilled  the  charm  which  mocked  the  beauty  or 
attainments  of  all  other  women  ;  his  thirsty  being  drank 
its  nectar  and  became  intoxicated  with  its  joy.  She 
sank  back  breathless,  on  the  low  seat  by  his  side,  and  hid 
her  face  in  the  crushed  and  broken  blossoms  as  if  their 
scarlet  should  indicate  her  shame.  But  he  had  no 
thought  of  shame  or  fear,  duty  or  obligation. 

"  I  love  you,  I  love  you ! "  was  all  he  could  think  or 
say. 

"I  have  had  joys  of  the  thought  of  Death  so  often,  oh, 
so  often ! "  she  said  in  a  low,  tremulous  voice,  "  but  I  can 
never  think  of  Death  again,  save  with  hate." 

"  But  if  he  came  with  me  ?  "  he  answered  eagerly, 
with  all  the  insistence  on  extremes  of  a  lover.  * 

"  With  you ! "  and  she  met  his  gaze  with  a  flashing 
eye.  "I  could  enslave  him.  We  would  live  and  love 
forever." 

"Tell  me,  darling,"  said  he,  calming  himself  a  little, 
and  taking  her  hands  closely  in  his  trembling  palms, 
"  what  does  this  all  mean  ?  Why  are  we  separated  ? 
Why  are  not  you  my  wife  ?  What  fatal  thing  has  made 
this  barrier  between  us  ?  " 

She  suddenly  laughed  in  scornful  bitterness.  "A 
wedding  ring,"  said  she. 

"It  might  have  been  yours,"  he  answered,  looking 
strangely  into  her  eyes. 

"  It  might  have  been  ! " 

Her  tone  had  a  subtle  significance,  a  hint  of  some 
possibility  which  his  intuition  caught  with  lightning 
quickness.  He  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  raising  her  with 
a  swift  movement,  held  her  straight  before  him,  the 
slight  physical  separation  seeming  to  be  like  an  interval 
of  time  in  which  he  could  fully  comprehend  the  true 
meaning  of  his  thoughts.  He  looked  away  and  up  and 
out  in  his  spirit,  and  for  an  instant  high  and  pure  as  an 


A  CONQUEST  147 

angel  shone  the  clear,  calm  face  of  Helen.  But  the  eyes 
of  his  body  rested  on  the  seductive,  pleading,  command 
ing  beauty  of  Sybil  Visonti.  Clasping  her  again  with 
fierce,  defiant  grasp,  he  hid  her  head  in  his  bosom  and, 
holding  her  as  if  he  could  never  let  her  go,  almost  cried 
out,  "  It  shall  be  yours  !  We  will  be  robbed  no  longer." 
An  eloquent  silence  followed,  filled  with  a  sense  of  jubi 
lant  heroism  for  him,  a  triumphant  diplomacy  for  her. 

She  had  won  by  neither  persuasion,  threat,  nor  prom 
ise.  She  had  not  even  exercised  pathos.  It  had  been 
fine  workmanship.  She  had  neither  invited  nor  denied. 
Her  vanity,  which  forever  had  held  a  mirror  up  in  front 
of  her  own  intellectual  subtleties,  gave  back  a  satisfac 
tory  show  of  that  art  which  was  "  an  underlying  unity  " 
of  her  being. 

"  And  do  you  say  to  me  that  henceforth  I  shall  be  no 
longer  lonesome,  no  longer  pine  and  die  in  hungering 
after  you  ?  "  Sybil  breathed  at  last,  releasing  herself,  and 
gently  drawing  him  beside  her  on  the  couch. 

"  Oh,  this  terrible  interval,  this  crushing,  devouring, 
burning  past,  of  nights  of  sighs,  of  tears,  —  worse,  a 
thousand  times  worse,  since  irresistibly  attracted  to  this 
house,  I  have  dared  to  face  your  possible  displeasure,  to 
brave  your  very  hatred  and  scorn  just  to  look  in  your 
face,  to  know  you  were  near,  although  —  hers  !  Kalfe, 
Ealfe,  can  you  realize  it  ?  Can  you  see  how  even  I, 
I  in  my  abandonment  could  throw  off  my  very  woman 
hood  and  bear  the  pangs  of  sight,  hearing,  touch,  in 
seeming  indifference  ?  I  am  tired,  worn,  dead  with  this 
frightful  concealment,  this  pressing  down  of  my  real 
feelings.  I  could  not  have  borne  it  longer.  When  you 
were  ill  I  tried  to  go  away  and  stay  forever.  I  said  to 
myself  in  unspeakable  bitterness  that  should  you  die, 
she  would  be  the  one  to  take  your  parting  breath ;  and 
should  you  live,  what  hope  ?  I  would  go  then  in  the 


148  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

very  crisis  of  my  anguish,  and  hugging  my  secret  to 
my  own  breast,  let  it  tear  my  soul  from  my  body  if  it 
would.  But  I  could  not.  Away  from  you  was  greater 
torture  than  to  be  near  you.  I  bound  the  mask  across 
my  face  again  —  but  it  is  past.  You  will  never  bid  me 
wear  it  to  you  again." 

"  Marvellous  woman  !  "  he  whispered.  "  Can  it  be 
possible  you  love  me  so  ?  And  I !  How  many  times 
have  I  lavished  on  dumb,  insensate  paper  the  assurances 
which  I  longed  with  aching  heart  to  give  you  !  As  I 
have  thought  of  you,  I  seemed  to  leap  towards  you.  My 
spirit  seemed  to  leave  my  body.  I  flew  to  embrace  you,  to 
take  your  dear  brow — so  — between  my  hands,  and  begin 
to  kiss  you  from  your  darling  little  curls  to  your  dear 
feet.  I  have  actually  felt  my  arms  around  you.  I  could 
not  curb  my  imagination.  No  words  can  express  the 
surging  sea  of  love  which  has  always  flowed  to  you,  sur 
rounded  you,  swept  you  along  its  life-giving  current.  I 
could  have  hailed  Love  out  of  the  sky  to  bid  him  fly  on 
the  wings  of  the  wind  to  bathe  you  in  my  caresses,  to 
give  your  sense  the  fragrance  of  a  thousand  sighs,  your 
eyes  the  light  of  a  life  of  smiles.  And  when  in  your 
radiance  you  came  here  under  my  roof,  when  the  very 
atmosphere  was  impregnated  with  the  delight  of  your 
presence,  and  I  saw  you  move  about  in  the  place  where 
I  had  meant  you  to  be  my  queen,  I  felt  as  if  in  a  dream 
—  an  ecstatic  dream  which  the  least  movement  might 
shatter,  the  least  word  put  to  flight.  Longing  for  a 
moment  alone  with  you,  I  still  avoided  it,  for  I  knew  not 
what  lay  beneath  your  apparent  indifference.  Your 
seeming  coldness  cut  me  to  the  quick  ;  your  pleasantries 
with  others  hurt  my  pride ;  your  very  smile  was  a  mys 
tery  too  sweet  to  fathom.  Ah,  how  impossible  it  is  to 
judge  by  the  hints  of  one's  surface  life  what  lies  deep 
and  seething  within  the  soul !  With  what  a  history  of 


SECRET  PLANS  149 

struggle,  pain,  hope,  fear,  trust,  suspicion,  and  a  thousand 
other  strong  emotions  should  I  overwhelm  you,  if  I 
should  pour  forth  the  fulness  of  my  heart ! " 

"My  true  life,  too,  is  always  within,"  she  answered, 
tallying  with  his  mood,  "  and  always  how  solitary ! 
But  in  you  I  shall  ever  find  a  friend,  a  companion, 
another  soul  like  my  own,  strong  and  rich  with  emotions, 
exalted  in  intellectual  pursuit,  noble  in  feeling.  Oh, 
promise  me  that  I  may  rest  in  you ;  that  in  you  I  shall 
find  that  protection,  that  chivalry  which  will  permit  me 
to  battle  no  longer  with  the  world,  but  hide  me  safe 
from  petty  misconception,  cruel  criticism  —  all  human 
ills  !  Oh  !  to  be  hidden  in  the  depths  of  an  ever-present 
love  ! " 

Intoxicated  with  her  pleading  helplessness,  there  was 
nothing  which  Ralfe  was  not  willing  to  do  or  sacrifice  to 
make  her  happy.  His  very  chivalry  aroused  him  to 
promise  her  his  devoted  protection.  Wooing  her  with 
words  whose  eloquence  seemed  to  spring  with  inspira 
tion  from  his  lips,  with  but  the  lightest  touches  he 
sketched  a  future  which  great  wealth  should  render 
possible  with  comparative  ease.  And  she  with  softest 
suggestions,  and  childlike  innocent  preferences,  painted 
in  the  picture  with  colors  caught  from  her  own  vivid 
imagination.  Nothing  should  be  done  unwisely,  nothing 
unadvisedly.  They  would  bask  in  the  sweet  sunshine  of 
a  mutual  understanding  through  the  long  bright  days  of 
summer ;  and  when  all  his  affairs  were  quietly  arranged 
and  some  legal  settlements  should  be  gradually  accom 
plished,  by  which  at  last  he  should  be  free,  —  free  from 
a  bondage  which  a  blind,  inevitable  necessity  had  caused 
him  to  assume,  —  they  would  go  away,  far  from  the  soci 
ety  which  was  as  nothing  to  their  love,  and  finding  some 
beautiful  retreat  beneath  foreign 'skies,  forget  that  they 
had  ever  suffered  or  been  parted.  Suddenly  confronting 
an  unanswered  doubt,  he  exclaimed,  — 


150  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  But,  darling,  even  now  I  know  not  how  this  terrible 
mistake  caine  about !  Why  did  you  return  my  letter  of 
proposal  in  that  harsh  fashion  —  torn  open,  and  without 
one  word  of  reply  ?  " 

"  What  letter  of  proposal  ?  "  exclaimed  Sybil,  in  evi 
dent  bewilderment.  "  When  ?  where  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  never  received  it  ? "  he 
cried,  springing  up  and  facing  her  with  face  white  to  the 
very  throat 

"  I  never  received  anything  from  you,"  said  Sybil, 
with  an  air  of  exhaustion,  "but  flowers." 

"  On  the  day  before  I  left  Paris  I  sent  you  a  letter 
and  a  bouquet.  I  asked  you  to  be  my  wife.  That  letter 
came  back  to  me  rudely  torn  open,  and  without  an 
answer.  What  was  I  to  think  ?  I  was  insulted  beyond 
measure.  But  oh,  I  loved  you !  " 

Sybil  looked  at  him  with  a  countenance  in  which  dis 
may,  bewilderment,  fright,  and  agony  seemed  to  struggle. 

"  Who  could  have  done  it  ?  Who  could  have  done 
it  ? "  she  repeated  in  a  helpless  way  as  if  faint  with 
intensity  of  feeling.  "  What  motive  ?  What  enemy  — 
I  cannot  explain  it.  Destiny  ruled  it.  But  if  your  love 
had  been  more  steadfast,  your  trust,  your  knowledge  of 
me  more  perfect !  "  and  with  this  bitter  thrust,  she  laid 
her  head  on  her  arms  and  sobbed  piteously. 

Ralfe  rushed  to  his  desk,  and  scattering  papers  right 
and  left,  said,  excitedly,  — 

"  Here  is  the  letter  !  Accept  it  now  !  By  the  Heaven 
above  me,  I  will  make  that  base  wretch  suffer  to  his 
latest  day,  who  dared  to  intercept  it !  I  will  find  him  if 
he  lives  upon  the  earth  !  " 

But  he  could  not  find  the  letter.  He  searched  in 
ever}-  nook  and  cranny,  impatiently  tossing  everything 
aside  ;  but  it  was  not*  there.  In  a  quiet  rage  which 
made  him  formidable,  he  pulled  the  bell,  and  ordered 


A   LAW  UNTO  THEMSELVES  151 

the  maid  to  appear  whose  duty  it  was  to  take  care  of  the 
library.  But,  question  her  as  he  might,  the  trembling 
girl  declared  that  she  had  neither  burned  nor  destroyed 
anything  whatever.  That  her  mistress  had  given  her 
strictest  orders  never  to  touch  a  paper  of  any  kind.  He 
dismissed  her,  and  going  to  Sybil,  who  had  passed  on 
into  the  conservatory,  begged  her  to  pardon  him  this 
strange  interruption. 

"The  letter  has  mysteriously  disappeared,"  he  said. 
"  I  will  ask  Helen  if  she  knows  anything  of  it." 

Sybil  looked  at  him  as  if  shocked. 

"  Would  you  tell  her  of  this  affair  ?  " 

His  anger  had  carried  him  beyond  all  remembrance 
of  the  consequences.  He  saw  his  mistake  and  smiled  a 
grim  smile. 

"That  would  be  an  odd  episode,"  said  he. 

"  Say  nothing  of  it  to  any  one  —  promise  me  !  " 
pleaded  Sybil,  winding  her  arms  about  him.  "  The  past 
is  past,  it  is  irretrievable.  But,  dearest,  are  we  not 
happy,  satisfied,  content  ?  What  is  a  letter  beside  your 
lips,  —  a  sheet  of  paper  beside  your  touch  ?  Love  came 
late,  but,  oh  Heaven,  it  has  come ;  and  let  us  welcome  it 
without  a  cloud ! "  And  with  an  ecstatic,  joyous,  tri 
umphant  gesture,  she  seemed  to  fling  aside  all  annoyance 
and  claim  her  right  to  him  with  an  embrace.  "  Let  us 
from  this  moment  dedicate  ourselves  to  joy.  If  we 
have  not  entered  the  temple  by  the  door,  we  have  be 
sieged  and  taken  it,  and  razed  the  walls  !  Henceforth 
we  will  be  a  law  unto  ourselves  !  " 

She  looked  so  glorious,  her  queenly  figure  surrounded 
and  caressed  by  the  great  tropic  blooms  about  her  head 
that  the  magnificent  audacity  of  her  speech  but  added 
to  the  fascination  which  was  so  wildly  sweet.  .  Governed 
by  an  impulse  which  he  could  not  control,  and  led  on  by 
the  acquiescence  which  was  half-yielding  and  half-coy, 


152  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

he  madly  pledged  himself  to  schemes  and  proposals  which 
even  half  an  hour  of  sober  reason  would  have  taught 
him  were  wholly  beneath  him,  yet  under  the  charm  of 
her  alluring  tongue  took  on  the  hues  of  honor,  chivalry 
and  right.  In  the  midst  of  their  fondest  plans,  the 
swift  feet  of  horses  were  heard  cantering  up  the  lawn. 
With  accomplished  ease  Sybil  broke  away  from  Ralfe's 
detaining  hand.  With  a  glowing  look,  full  of  unutter 
able  attraction,  she  turned  to  go ;  but  suddenly  grew 
white  with  the  intensity  of  her  purpose. 

"  WTe  are  one  ?  "  she  said,  solemnly  closing  her  hand 
over  his. 

"  One  forever." 

"  Come  what  may  ?  " 

"  Be  it  death  itself." 

"And  meantime,  silence  ?  " 

"  Silence  and  faith." 

"Silence  and  faith,"  she  repeated,  just  disappearing 
when  Helen's  voice  was  heard  in  the  hall. 

When  she  was  safely  in  her  room,  she  made  a  low,  rev 
erent  bow  to  nothing ;  and  with  a  lip  of  sardonic  deris 
ion,  uttered  again  the  proud  words  of  that  morning  :  "  It 
is  the  crisis  that  proves  the  American.  Then  it  is  that 
he  always  rings  true  !  " 


SYMPATHY  153 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A    WEDDING    RING. 
"  No  hinge,  nor  loop  to  hang  a  doubt  on." 


Othello. 


WHILE  Ralfe  sat  with  his  head  bowed  on  his  hands, 
trying  to  calm  the  tempest  of  his  thought,  Helen  softly 
entered,  holding  in  her  hand  a  pretty  ring.  Something 
in  his  attitude  and  in  his  face  when  he  raised  it,  pale 
and  haggard  with  the  conflict  of  conscience  with  inclina 
tion,  startled  her.  Her  soul  found  within  itself  a  re 
echoing  cry,  and  she  advanced  white  and  trembling  to 
his  side.  He  grasped  her  hands  and  looked  into  her 
great,  wistful  eyes  as  he  would  into  those  of  an  angel 
sent  to  save  him.  Oh,  the  speaking  silence  of  those 
eyes  !  What  a  depth  of  pure,  sweet,  holy  tenderness  they 
contained !  How  clean  and  fair  was  the  look,  mingled 
with  an  anxious  and  troubled  questioning.  Her  gentle 
voice,  so  vibrant  yet  so  melodious,  rich  with  the  harmony 
of  her  perfectly  attuned  nature,  seemed  to  him  like  a 
healing,  cooling  breeze  after  fever. 

"  You  are  sad,  comrade  ! " 

Sad  ?  But  a  few  moment  ago  he  believed  himself 
in  the  wildest  delirium  of  joy  !  He  had  clasped  to 
his  heart  the  woman  whose  very  name  enslaved  him. 
Sad  ?  He  had  believed  himself  trembling  with  bliss, 
enraptured  with  mad  happiness !  But  grasping  his 
wife's  hands,  looking  into  her  sympathetic  face,  feeling 
the  heaven  of  her  soul  touching  the  hell  of  his,  and  lift 
ing  him  out  of  himself  into  her  purer  sphere,  he  shud- 


154  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

dered,  and  drawing  her  nearer  and  nearer,  clung  to  her 
as  if  he  were  drowning ;  and  laying  his  head  against  her 
arm,  shut  his  eyes,  and  with  quivering  lip  answered, 
"  Yes,  comrade  ;  I  am  sad." 

They  remained  thus  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 
his  hot  temple  throbbing  against  her  round,  white  wrist, 
and  his  excited  brain  thinking,  "  Oh,  if  she  only  loved 
me  she  could  so  easily  save  me  !  I  feel  so  helpless.  If 
she  only  loved  me  !  But  she  pities  me." 

While  Helen  yearned  to  kiss  the  dear,  bowed  head, 
longingly  saying  to  herself,  "  How  I  would  give  my  very 
blood  to  comfort  him  if  he  would  have  it !  — but,  he  will 
not." 

He  could  not  speak  and  tell  her  of  the  terrible  battle 
he  was  fighting.  Could  he  tell  his  wife,  "  Sybil  Visonti 
seems  to  overpower  reason,  conscience,  habit,  principle, 
every  noble  feeling  of  my  being,  and  fells  me  helpless  at 
her  feet,  a  mere  animal  with  an  animal's  uncontrolled 
instincts !  I  crave  her,  and  seem  to  enjoy  paradise  in 
the  very  touch  of  her  dress.  I  am  lost  to  everything 
but  her  beauty,  her  magnetism,  her  glowing  eyes ! " 
He  shook  himself  and  rose  to  his  feet.  "Did  you  wish 
for  anything,  dearest  ?  "  he  said  g'ently. 

Alas,  that  "dearest."  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  used  it,  but  she  wished  he  had  left  it  unsaid.  She 
felt  it  put  her  far  away,  refused  her  sympathy.  She 
saw  he  meant  to  be  strong  alone,  and  in  her  tender  love, 
she  wondered  at  his  sudden  assumption  of  indifference 
to  his  own  sorrow,  whatever  it  might  be.  But  it  would 
have  been  impossible  for  her  to  intrude  on  an  emotion 
which  he  strove  to  throw  off. 

"  He  will  never  really  trust  me,"  she  thought  despair 
ingly,  then  answered,  "  Yes,  I  wished  you  to  do  a  little 
errand  for  me  when  you  drive  down  town.  Will  it  be 
too  much  trouble  ?  " 


AN  ERRAND  155 

"To  serve  you  is  a  favor,  always,  Helen.  Certainly 
I  will  do  it.  What  is  it?" 

"  I  wish  this  ring  mended.  I  loaned  it  to  Sybil  a 
week  or  two  ago,  but  as  to-day  is  the  anniversary  of  my 
mother's  wedding,  and  this  was  her  wedding-ring,  I  re 
quested  her  to  let  me  have  it  again  in  remembrance. 
When  I  put  it  on,  however,  I  found  that  the  largest 
diamond  was  loose,  and  I  dare  not  wear  it  until  the  set 
ting  is  fastened.  Can  you  take  it  for  me  to  Griffin  ? 
He  has  a  little  shop,  but  he  is  reliable." 

"  Can  I  find  the  place  ?  "  he  said,  tucking  the  ring  into 
his  purse. 

"  Oh,  Hewston  knows.  He  has  been  there,"  she 
answered  carelessly,  and  with  a  smile,  turned  away. 

He  appreciated  her  delicacy.  "  There  is  one  thing," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  she  is  the  least  curious  of  women. 
How  I  hate  that  invariable,  '  What  is  the  matter  ?  ' 
which  most  people  ask.  They  must  know  all  about  it 
before  they  can  even  say  '  I  ain  sorry.'  "  And  catching 
up  his  hat,  he  went  out  to  give  orders  for  his  cart. 

The  morning  was  deliciously  fresh  and  brilliant.  He 
felt  better  as  he  drove  Bocket  and  King  Cute  at  a  rattling 
pace,  the  leader  tossing  his  silky  mane  and  curveting 
like  a  skittish  colt.  Hewston  directed  him  to  a  small 
shop  set  in  the  corner  of  a  busy,  narrow,  dirty  little 
thoroughfare  in  the  old  part  of  the  town.  Throwing 
him  the  reins,  Ralfe  stepped  in,  to  find  a  gray-haired  old 
man,  beautifully  gotten  up  as  to  linen,  polishing  with 
his  owri  hands  a  tiny  lace  pin. 

"I  have  a  ring  here  that  needs  mending  a  little,"  said 
Ralfe  pleasantly,  after  the  usual  greeting.  "  One  of  the 
stones  appears  to  be  loose." 

"Why,  that  is  odd,"  said  the  jeweller,  "I  did  not 
think  my  setting  would  last  so  short  a  time,"  examining 
it  closely.  "  The  lady  must  have  hit  it  a  hard  knock." 


156  SARDIA:  A   STORY  OF  LOVE 

"Your  setting  ?  "  said  Kalfe,  a  little  surprised.  "  Have 
you  mended  this  ring  before  ?  " 

"  I  set  these  stones  for  a  young  lady  only  a  few  days 
ago." 

"  Set  them  ?  "  repeated  Ralfe,  surprised  indeed  at  his 
phrase.  "Were  not  these  diamonds  set  as  they  are 
now  ?  " 

"  The  diamonds  were,  but  these  are  the  paste  stones 
I  set  in  their  places." 

"  Paste  ! "  exclaimed  Ralfe,  thunderstruck. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  he  complacently,  "  and  I  declared  to 
her  that  only  an  expert  could  detect  them.  Now  I  am 
sure  she  will  be  satisfied,"  and  he  chuckled  with  pleas 
ure.  "You  know,"  he  went  on  confidentially,  "a  great 
many  ladies  do  that  sort  of  thing  nowadays.  Of  course, 
as  she  sent  you  with  the  ring,  she  has  no  objection  to 
your  knowing,  though  of  course  it  is  always  undei stood 
that  these  little  transactions  are  kept  secret.  Probably 
she  wanted  to  test  these  pretty  deceptions,"  rubbing 
them  smartly,  and  evidently  pleased  to  see  how  com 
pletely  they  had  deceived  the  bearer. 

Ralfe  had  somewhat  recovered  his  outer  calmness. 
"  I  don't  think  she  would  care  to  have  you  mention  it  to 
any  one  else.  Did  she  leave  her  name  ?  " 

"  Let's  see.  No,  come  to  think  of  it,  she  didn't.  She 
only  left  her  initials,  S.  V." 

"  Yes  those  are  the  initials  of  my  residence,  ;  Spray 
View,'  "  said  Ralfe  quickly.  "  I  suppose  you  bought  the 
diamonds  ?  "  he  added  carelessly,  hazarding  a  guess  at 
what  had  become  of  them. 

"  Yes.  Three  hundred  and  twenty -five  dollars  was 
fair,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

Ralfe  felt  as  if  he  should  choke.  The  air  became 
stagnant.  He  clinched  his  hand  to  steady  himself. 

"  Is  that  what  you  paid  her  ?  " 


BARGAINING  FOE,  HONOR  157 

"  Yes,  sir.  She  was  a  good  judge  of  stones.  She 
wanted  three  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars,  but 
finally  took  up  with  my  offer." 

For  a  moment  Ralfe  felt  as  if  he  must  rush  out  of  the 
place  to  breathe.  He  controlled  himself,  however,  and 
thought,  "  I  must  not  arouse  suspicion.  I  must  bargain 
for  them  or  he  will  suspect.  What  if  he  has  sold  them ! " 

"  Did  she  give  you  any  orders  to  retain  them  ?  "  said  he. 
"  Had  she  an  intention  of  buying  them  back  again  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  she  drove  a  sharp  bargain  for  them,  and 
sold  them  outright." 

"  I  suppose  you  would  not  sell  them  foi  the  same 
money  ?  "  he  queried,  carelessly. 

"  Not  if  I  know  it !  " 

"  Then  you  have  them  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  haven't  done  any  thing  with  them." 

"  What  will  you  sell  them  for  ?  "  feeling  all  the  time 
as  if  he  were  bargaining  for  his  own  honor,  his  life, 
with  an  unspeakable  disgust  and  shame. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  want  to  sell.  Diamonds  are  on 
the  rise.  I  think  I  shall  set  them  as  a  cluster  pin." 

"  Wouldn't  you  take  three  hundred  and  seventy-five 
dollars  for  them,  unset  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  don't  think  I  could  exactly  do  that." 

"  What  will  you  take  ?  "  said  Ralfe  sharply,  fumbling 
impatiently  in  his  note-book.  "  Come,  come,  set  a  price. 
I  will  buy  them  and  have  them  set  right  back  in  their 
places  if  you  make  it  reasonable ;  if  not  I  shall  go  else 
where,"  and  he  picked  up  Helen's  ring  and  began  to  put 
it  in  his  purse.  "  Oh,  if  he  would  say  five  hundred  dol 
lars  and  be  done  with  it,"  he  thought,  chafing  at  the 
man's  slowness  —  for  what  sum  would  he  not  gladly 
have  paid  to  once  get  away  from  that  place  ! 

"  I'll  take  four  hundred  dollars,"  said  the  dealer  at 
last,  looking  shrewdly  at  his  customer. 


158  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  Very  well ! "  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Here  is  rrn' 
check;  and  I  want  that  ring  done  by  five  o'clock  at 
latest.  It  cannot  be  so  great  a  matter  to  exchange  these 
stones.  Send  the  ring  to  Mrs.  Fielding,  Spray  View." 

The  loose  diamonds,  which  had  now  been  produced, 
sparkled  in  a  ray  of  sunshine  which  fell  across  the  little 
velvet  pad. 

"  I  rely  on  you  to  use  the  very  stones  that  were  in  it 
before,"  said  Ealfe  sharply,  looking  at  their  modest 
glitter  closely. 

"  I've  been  in  this  place  twenty -five  years,"  said  Mr. 
Griffin  proudly,  "  and  I  never  had  any  trouble  yet." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Fielding,  going,  "  it  was  not 
for  the  value  of  the  diamonds.  It  was  for  their  associa 
tions.  It  was  a  wedding-ring." 


A  MORNING  CANTEK  159 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TWO    HEAKTS. 

"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote  on  all  its  chords  with 

might; 
Smote  the  chord  of  Self,  that,  trembling,  passed  in  music  out  of 

sight." 

Tennyson. 

ON  starting  out  for  their  ride  that  morning,  Sardia 
and  Helen  were  both  in  the  gayest  spirits.  She,  having 
been  so  constantly  confined  to  the  house,  had  been  long 
ing  for  a  gallop  in  the  fresh  air,  and  her  guest,  who  sel 
dom  had  a  moment's  tete  a  tete  with  her,  felt  that  air  to 
be  a  breath  from  Paradise,  as  they  gently  cantered  away. 
Their  road  stretched  inland,  back  from  the  frequented 
path  by  the  sea,  and  after  two  or  three  miles  they  found 
themselves  in  quiet  woodland  ways,  crossing  occasion 
ally  some  brook  with  its  willow  embowered  bridge,  or 
winding  in  and  out  among  the  pine-clad  mounds  and 
hollows  of  a  rolling  country.  The  fresh  smells  of  the 
morning  rose  like  an  incense,  and,  still  undisputed  by 
the  sun,  light  wreaths  of  mist  hung  waveringly  over 
the  marshes,  tipping  the  grasses  with  pearly  drops  and 
making  the  wide-stretched  cobwebs  like  fairy  tents  hung 
with  opals.  They  cantered  a  long  time  without  speak 
ing,  she  drinking  in  the  glory  of  the  early  day,  and  he 
drinking  in  the  glory  of  her  beauty,  her  companionship, 
her  presence.  As  they  turned  into  a  nook-like  bridle 
path,  whose  edges  were  dotted  with  tufts  of  earliest 
blue  asters,  —  that  rarely  modest  flower  which  like  a 


160  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

maiden's  eye  looks  natural  love  into  your  own,  —  a  flight 
of  bluejays  made  the  sun-gilt  trees  a  windy  rustle,  with 
notes  and  whirs  of  wings  all  mixed,  and  flashing  snowy 
tips  of  tails  and  crests  anod  ! 

Both  stopped  to  listen  until  their  strange  wild  notes 
broke  the  mist  far  away  in  a  wooded  valley. 

"  I  was  much  interested  in  a  sentence  of  John  Fiske's, 
the  other  day,"  said  Helen,  looking  around  with  a  com 
prehensive  glance.  "  He  said,  '  The  material  is  but  the 
temporary  relations,  otherwise  unknown,  between  our 
selves  and  the  Infinite  Deity.'  Yes !  to  give  us  an 
individual  enjoyment  He  placed  us  in  natural  relations, 
and  then,  —  how  He  manifests  Himself !  How  He  shows 
Himself !  How  He  speaks  himself  out  to  eye  and  ear, 
taste  and  smell  and  touch  !  How  in  that  robin's  cry  He 
warbles  '  Here  am  I ! '  How  in  those  nodding  plumes  of 
wind-bowed  grasses  He  sighs  softly,  '  Here  I  am,  dear  ! ' 
How  He  comes  and  floods  our  senses  with  those  locust 
blossoms,  murmuring  '  Here  is  your  Father,  little  ones ! ' 
and  in  that  sweep  of  clouds  across  the  serene  heavens, 
how  He  bends  down  His  face  to  utter  the  same  appeal 
for  recognition,  ;  Children,  look  higher !  I  am  above 
you  ! '  He  manifests  himself  in  temporary  relations  to 
the  finite  senses  in  so  grand  a  way,  what  do  you  think 
His  manifestations  will  be,  —  His  permanent  manifesta 
tions,  in  spirit,  not  in  matter  ?  " 

Sardia  answered  with  a  smile  of  perfect  sympathy. 

"  There  will  be  no  limit,  no  end,"  he  said.  "  The  ima 
gination  fails  to  picture  it.  But  oh !  Helen,  I  am  glad 
we  know  it  beforehand,  —  many  do  not." 

Helen  took  off  her  hat  and  let  the  breeze  blow  her  soft 
hair  in  fluffy  curls  from  her  flushed  face. 

Sardia  smiled,  and  dismounting,  came  and  patted  the 
neck  of  her  horse,  looking  up  at  her  with  so  dear,  so 
exquisite  an  expression,  that  she  stooped  forward  and 
softly  touched  his  shoulder. 


SO  SWEET  A  SPOT  161 

"  How  good  you  are,"  she  murmured. 

He  gave  her  a  grateful  glance,  but  turned  and  slowly 
gazed  about  him,  as  if  to  lose  nothing  of  so  sweet  a  spot. 
Then  looking  again  at  her  with  a  thrill  of  deep  joy  in 
his  voice,  he  said  softly,  — 

"  Such  little  scenes  in  one's  life  are  the  rhymes  and 
songs  amidst  the  blank  verse  of  the  drama.  They  come 
into  the  melancholy  solidity  of  every-day  existence,  as 
some  of  the  refrains  in  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare,  or 
take  one's  fancy  a-roaming  like  the  fairy  shows  of  '  Mid 
summer  Night's  Dream.' 

'  I  know  a  bank  whereon  the  wild  thyme  grows, 
Where  oxlips  and  the  nodding  viole^  blows,' 

steals  with  kindred  poesy  into  the  sensitive  mind,  and 
leaves  an  impress  of  ethereal  beauty." 

"  Our  home  has  been  very  sweet  this  summer,  has  it 
not  ?  "  said  Helen,  allowing  her  dewy  eyes  to  rest  wist 
fully  on  his  face.  "  Never  in  all  my  life  have  I  been  so 
situated  !  Never  so  free  from  criticism,  never  so  un 
shackled  from  the  heavy  load  of  conventionalism,  —  for 
after  all,  our  party  are  so  delightfully  Bohemian,  that 
we  think  but  little  of  rites  and  rules  !  I  feel  at  ease  to 
do,  dress,  laugh,  think,  read,  play,  sing,  shout  at  my  own 
sweet  will,  —  and  to  my  heart's  content,  and  all  in  an 
atmosphere  of  tenderness,  good-will  and  approval,  which 
I  find  rich  with  new  life !  Every  one  is  so  kind  to  me  — 
so  considerate !  Even  Ealfe  is  kind.  Is  this  freedom 
the  gift  of  marriage  ?  " 

His  cheek  paled  as  he  answered,  — 

"  You,  grateful  for  kindness,  who  make  life  a  joy  to 
every  one  about  you  ?  Why,  who  could  have  the  cour 
age  to  be  unkind,  or  cold,  or  —  Helen,  I  cannot  bear  it. 
I  cannot  bear  to  see  those  unshed  drops  in  your  eyes ! 
Yes,  to  me  your  home  has  been  the  dearest  spot  of 


162  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

earth  !  To  me  the  very  air  you  breathe,  the  ground  you 
tread,  the  object  you  touch,  are  sacred.  Your  every  mood 
appeals  to  my  soul  with  articulate  meanings.  I  exult  in 
your  joy,  and  feel  my  whole  being  droop  when  sadness 
clouds  your  sweet  countenance.  I  thought  not  to  tell 
you,  —  I  have  striven  not  to  tell  you,  dear,  of  what  you 
still  must  have  read  so  plainly  —  but  —  0  God,  I  suffer, 
and  for  once  am  wholly  unmanned." 

"  No,  never  that,"  said  she,  looking  into  his  face  with 
an  air  of  perfect  faith,  "  I  know  your  soul  too  well  for 
that." 

"  But  I  love  you !  "  he  answered,  returning  her  gaze 
with  cheeks  so  white  and  eyes  so  strained  with  anguish 
that  he  seemed  transformed  and  ghost-like. 

Her  own  blanched  with  intense  pity. 

"  Take  me  down,"  said  she,  "  and  let  us  tell  our  whole 
hearts  out." 

"I  cannot,  I  dare  not,"  he  answered,  shutting  his 
teeth.  "  I  shall  clasp  you  to  my  heart  if  you  do.  Get 
down  here,  dearest,  —  I  cannot  touch  you  !  " 

She  leapt  lightly  on  to  the  fallen  log,  and  went  to  a 
softly-bedded  spot,  where,  casting  aside  her  hat,  she  sat 
waiting  for  him  to  come.  In  a  moment  or  two  he  flung 
himself  on  the  ground  and  buried  his  face  in  the  cool 
green  moss. 

"  I  have  known  from  the  first,  dear  friend,  that  you 
loved  me,  and  you  have  known  from  the  first  that  I  love 
Ealfe.  Can  any  one  in  this  world  more  deeply  appre 
ciate  what  you  feel  than  I  ?  Are  there  any  words  you 
could  use  to  me  that  I  should  not  use  to  him  ?  Yet 
shall  this  divide  us  ?  It  has  not.  All  these  weeks  your 
heart  and  mine  have  been  close  together  in  a  bond  of 
mutual  pain.  Our  union  is  a  friendship  of  unspeakable 
sadness ;  but  it  is  all  we  can  hope  for,  since  it  is  our 
destiny  to  love  separately.  Oh,  Sardia,  be  greater  than 


PERFECT  TRUST  163 

love  itself,  —  be  my  true  friend.  Turn  love  into  Christ- 
like  abnegation  !  You  are  capable  of  it,  —  you  will  do 
it!" 

"  Why  do  you  love  him  so  ?  "  he  cried  desperately. 

"  Why  do  you  love  me  so  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Why  ?  "  and  his  tone  seemed  to  concentrate  every 
grace,  and  glory,  and  virtue  of  womanhood  and  angel 
hood  in  the  one  syllable.  "  Helen,  do  not !  It  is  almost 
blasphemous  to  yourself.  What  soul  that  reads  the 
purity  of  yours  can  fail  to  love  you  ?  " 

"  That  is  just  what  I  say  in  my  secret  heart  —  of  him," 
she  murmured  wistfully. 

"  Yet  he  does  not  love  you ! "  The  retort  sprang  to 
his  lips  involuntarily,  but  he  checked  it  in  time.  Should 
he  be  deliberately  cruel  because  she  was  unconsciously 
so?  "Helen,"  he  only  said  wearily,  "what  are  we  to 
do  ?  It  seems  to  me,  dear,  that  we  are  the  only  ones 
who  can  unwind  this  tangled  skein.  If  you  knew  how 
Avilling  I  am  to  help  you  —  if  you  dreamed  that  even 
though  I  love  you  so  deeply  —  I  still  —  I  shall  not  allow 
that  to  make  any  difference  —  why,  I  stumble  in  my 
speech  like  a  school-boy  !  I  beg  your  pardon  !" 

"  You  mean  to  say,  that  no  matter  how  you  may  suffer 
yourself,  you  desire  my  happiness  most  and  will  sacri 
fice  your  own  love  to  give  me  content.  Is  not  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  but  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

"That  is  just  what  I  have  planned  to  do  myself  — 
for  Kalfe,"  said  she  gently.  "  I  read  love,  your  great 
love,  straight  out  of  my  own  heart.  What  I  can  do  for 
love's  sake,  you  will  do,  noble,  sublime  soul  that  you 
are !  Do  I  not  know  that  ?  Have  I  not  trusted  it  ? 
Do  I  not  lean  on  you  as  I  would  lean  on  my  Saviour, 
were  He  here  to  speak  to  me  ?  Is  it  possible  you  think 
I  do  not  understand  you,  when  not  an  hour  passes  that 
my  thought  does  not  leap  out  to  you  and  feel  your  sus- 


164  SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

taining  thought  respond  ?  Mine  is  no  light  feeling  for 
you,  dear,  kind  one  !  If  I  were  to  choose  the  wide  world 
over  for  a  man  I  could  trust  to  the  end,  it  would  be 
you!" 

He  heard  these  words  with  the  glow  stealing  warmly 
back  into  his  cheek,  the  fire  into  his  eyes,  the  tenderness 
and  resignation  into  his  heart.  "  How  can  I  thank  you, 
best  of  all  women !  But  trust  me  now.  Open  your 
very  soul  to  me.  I  feel  that  at  this  moment  a  crisis  has 
been  reached  in  all  our  lives.  We  must  be  brave  and 
meet  it." 

"  Sybil  Visonti  ?  "  Helen  half  whispered. 

"  It  is  enough.  Her  name  indicates  it  all.  Must  she 
triumph  ?  " 

"  But  is  it  triumph  ?  Is  it  not  rather  justice  ?  "  ques 
tioned  Helen.  "  You  know  they  loved  before  he  saw 
me;  and  some  slight  misunderstanding,  some  pique, 
some  little  estrangement,  threw  him  into  my  —  into  his 
present  position.  Is  it  right  ?  Have  I  not  robbed  her 
of  a  thousand  things  ?  Can  you  blame  her  if  she  looks 
upon  me  as  her  enemy,  and  upon  him  as  her  natural  and 
proper  mate  ?  How  can  she  help  doing  her  best  to  keep 
his  love  ?  Remember  her  Southern  nature,  her  fiery 
temperament.  His  love  is  all  she  can  keep.  I  have 
taken  his  name  ;  have  become  his  legal  wife  ;  the 
mistress  of  his  home ;  and  how  did  I  deserve  it  or  win 
it  ?  He  did  not  know  me.  He  had  no  time  to  study 
me.  He  was  almost  forced  to  marry  me.  It  was  a  ques 
tion  of  money,  —  money  ! "  and  the  disgust  which  came 
into  her  voice  showed  how  truly  she  despised  it.  "  Hon 
estly,  can  you  blame  her  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  money  which  she  really  envies 
you  ?  "  said  he. 

"No!"  jumping  to  her  feet.  "If  I  thought  that! 
But  it  cannot  be.  How  could  she  expect  to  gain  his 


A  TERRIBLE  TEMPTATION  165 

money  now  ?  What  could  be  her  object  ?  Oh,  she 
loves  him.  It  is  nothing  else." 

"  Yet  when  he  had  a  contagious  disease  she  left  him  ! 
Helen,  would  you  follow  the  man  you  loved  into  his  new 
home,  and  try  to  entice  him  away  from  his  bride,  whether 
he  loved  her  or  not  ?  Don't  answer  me.  So  base  a 
thought  never  entered  your  mind,  or  could  enter  it.  But 
that  is  precisely  what  she  is  doing.  She  means  to  rob 
you  of  your  husband's  love,  then  of  your  husband's  per 
son,  and  then  of  your  husband's  money.  She  is  unscru 
pulous.  There  is  a  passage  in  her  life  which  she  con 
ceals  from  ever}-  one.  The  Princess  Menshikoff  knows 
it,  and  if  I  choose  to  ask  her  I  can  know  it  too.  This  secret 
once  known  might  ruin  her,  so  madame  has  hinted,  and 
when  she  hinted  she  frowned  like  fate.  Shall  I  find  out 
and  tell  you  what  it  is,  that  you  may  guard  yourself  and 
Kalfe,  perhaps  save  Ralfe  from  social  and  moral  destruc 
tion?" 

"Certainly  not ! "  said  Helen  decidedly.  " Miss  Visonti 
is  my  guest.  Her  past  is  her  own.  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it,  and  have  no  curiosity  about  it.  If  she  is 
evil,  God  will  requite  her  ill  deeds.  I  will  not  play  the 
spy.  I  do  not  believe  in  bad  means  to  good  ends." 

Sardia's  face  beamed  with  pride.  "  How  impossible 
it  is  to  strike  a  false  note  in  you ! "  he  murmured. 

But  she  did  not  heed  him.  "What  I  wish  to  do  is 
this.  If  Sybil  is  worthy  of  Ralfe,  and  their  love  is  a 
noble  and  lasting  one,  I  wish  them  to  belong  to  each 
other.  I  wish  to  annul  this  marriage  which  to  him  is  a 
horrible  bondage,  and  placing  her  hand  in  his,  wish  them 
God's  blessing,  and  then  —  go  away  somewhere  and  — 
die."  And  she  broke  into  passionate  sobs. 

As  she  bowed  her  head  to  hide  her  tear-stained  cheeks, 
and  the  silken  hair  half  fell  in  flossy  folds  over  her 
shapely  neck,  Sardia  bent  over  it,  and  then  taking  a 


166  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

little  lock  in  his  hand,  kissed  it.  It  was  a  silent  bene 
diction. 

"Dear  heart,"  he  said,  when  she  had  become  quiet, 
"most  people  would  laugh  at  such  a  Quixotic  notion. 
They  would  tell  you  it  was  impossible,  romantic,  absurd, 
ridiculous.  But  they  would  not  understand  you  as  I 
do"  — 

"  Then  you  think  I  am  right  ?  "  she  exclaimed  eagerly, 
heroism  like  a  flame  starting  into  her  looks. 

But  swifter  still  than  that,  a  terrible  temptation  now 
assailed  Sir  Sardia.  "  What  if  I  should  counsel  her  to 
follow  out  this  wild  dream  ?  "  he  thought.  "  Supposing 
she  were  encouraged  to  free  him  and  free  herself  ! 
Where  then  would  she  fly  for  protection,  sympathy, 
comfort,  —  love  ?  Where  but  to  me  ?  " 

To  her  surprise,  instead  of  answering  her,  he  walked 
away  and  sat  down  on  the  log,  dropping  his  face  into 
his  hands.  How  could  she  know  what  a  fierce  struggle 
went  on  in  that  keenly  smitten  soul !  How  could  she 
dream  that  behind  those  hiding  hands  was  a  face  growing 
paler  and  paler  as  devil  after  devil  of  temptation  held  up 
before  him  the  bliss,  the  rapture,  the  joy  of  holding  this 
woman  in  his  longing  embrace  and  lavishing  on  her  a 
love  which  should  drive  the  thought  of  Ralfe  forever 
out  of  her  mind  ?  The  silence  became  oppressive.  The 
impatient  stamping  of  the  horses,  the  rubbing  of  their 
bridles  against  the  trees,  the  impertinent  hum  of  a  vagrant 
bee,  sounded  to  both  so  loud  as  to  be  startling.  With 
that  strange  comprehension  of  trifles  which  comes  in 
the  midst  of  supreme  emotions,  they  even  noticed  the 
soft  rustle  of  the  wind  through  the  long  grasses. 

"  He  believes  I  should  do  it,"  Helen  was  thinking, 
"  and  is  suffering  in  anticipation  of  what  I  must  bear," 
while  her  spirits  grew  even  more  sad. 

"  Sustain  me,  Thou  Righteousness  !  "  his  heart  was  cry 
ing  within  him. 


COMFORT  167 

At  last,  raising  his  head,  and  looking  about  in  a  dazed 
fashion,  as  if  not  sure  it  was  light,  he  answered  slowly, 
"  Forgive  me,  dear,  for  keeping  you  waiting,  but  I  have 
been  trying  to  think  wisely  for  you.  I  admire,  you 
cannot  know  how  much,  the  grand,  the  generous  impulse 
which  leads  you  to  plan  so  strange  a  method  of  righting 
what  you  deem  a  wrong,  and  if  we  finally  conclude  it  is  a 
wrong,  I  am  not  sure  but  I  should  say  '  Do  as  you  think 
best.'  But  let  us  be  very  sure.  I  sometimes  think  that  no 
marriage  is  in  vain.  It  seems  to  me  that  God  does  rule 
the  lives  of  His  children.  It  may  not  seem  so  —  it  often 
seems  impossible  that  anything  of  God  could  exist  in  an 
unhappy  marriage,  —  but,  after  all,  is  it  not  ourselves 
who  make  or  mar  the  opportunities  which  He  puts  into 
our  lives  ?  If  every  marriage  were  made  the  best  of  by 
both,  would  there  ever  be  a  divorce  ?  So  in  faith  that 
He  knew,  who  separated  them  and  joined  you  to  him, 
what  was  best  for  all,  let  us  be  very  sure,  very  certain, 
that  you  would  be  wise  in  putting  the  bond  asunder.  It  is 
Ralfe's  best  good  that  you  wish  to  secure,  —  not  so  much 
his  happiness  as  his  highest  good.  As  yet  we  do  not 
know  that  she  is  capable  of  giving  him  that,  or  that  she 
is  worthy  of  intimate  association  with  him  at  all.  Will 
you  not  wait  until  you  prove  her  so  ?  " 

These  words,  spoken  painfully,  slowly,  as  if  dragged 
from  the  very  depths  of  his  being,  fell  on  Helen's  ears 
with  a  promise  of  infinite  comfort.  With  what  a  sense 
of  relief,  of  blessed  respite,  of  almost  peace,  she  thought 
them  over,  language  can  hardly  express. 

"  How  you  comfort  me,  how  you  content  me ! "  she 
exclaimed,  going  to  his  side  and  lifting  up  a  grateful 
countenance  which  sweetly  spoke  her  thanks.  "  What  a 
true,  wise  friend  you  are.  How  always  strong,  good  and 
restful  you  are  to  me  !  How  I  can  depend  upon  you !  Do 
you  know  what  an  inspiration  you  have  just  given  me  ? 


168  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

How  hope  has  blazed  into  my  heart  again  like  a  beauti 
ful  vision  ?  You  seemed  for  a  moment  like  a  great, 
grand  angel  who  had  vanquished  something  evil.  I 
believe  you  did."  And  with  childlike  openness  she  looked 
with  rapt  gaze  into  his  eyes. 

"Earth  is  no  place  for  you,  darling.  You  see  too 
clearly,  and  seeing  so  always  brings  such  pain.  Yes,  I 
vanquished  something,  for  I  remembered  your  words: 
'  Do  I  not  lean  on  you  as  I  would  lean  on  my  Saviour, 
were  He  here  to  speak  to  me  ?  '  I  am  no  Judas." 

She  could  not  understand  him,  but  as  they  slowly 
mounted  and  rode  homeward,  she  often  glanced  at  his 
face,  stern  and  set  in  a  melancholy  over  which  would 
occasionally  flit  a  tender  smile  as  he  looked  at  her,  with 
a  strange  sense  of  loss,  as  if  some  change  in  him  had 
drawn  him  nearer  Heaven  and  a  little  more  away  from 
earth.  Her  sensitive  nature,  touched  to  the  core  by  his 
devotion  and  full  of  all  womanly  longing  to  comfort, 
soothe  and  bless  him,  suffered  more  in  this  homeward 
ride  for  him,  than  for  herself  or  all  the  world  beside. 

As  they  neared  the  town,  he  suddenly  stopped  his 
horse  and  drawing  hers  close  beside  him,  took  her  hand. 

"Let  us  go  on  patiently  as  we  have  been,"  said  he, 
"believing  all  will  be  well  in  the  end.  If  this  woman  is 
unworthy  of  Ealfe's  love  ;  if  she  simply  awakens  passion 
for  the  sake  of  the  possibilities  of  his  leaving  you  and 
giving  her  a  life  of  luxury  and  ease,  you  may  depend 
upon  it,  she  will  fail ;  for  she  is  certain  to  make  missteps 
which  will  discover  her  plans  and  blast  her  character  in 
his  eyes.  No  evil  purpose  can  be  carried  on,  week  after 
week,  without  the  betrayal  of  character.  Kalfe  is  only 
blinded.  He  lives  in  the  clouds.  Let  her  show  him  some 
trait  which  will  shock  his  sense  of  honor,  and  he  will 
awaken  with  a  start.  Besides,  I  am  convinced  that  there 
are  adversaries  on  her  track  with  which  she  will  be  power- 


A  FRIEND  INDEED  169 

less  to  contend.  As  for  me,  I  have  been  thinking  dur 
ing  the  last  mile  or  two,  what  it  is  best  for  me  to  do.  I 
had  an  impulse  to  go  away,  yes,  to  the  uttermost  parts 
of  the  earth ;  but  I  believe  that  would  be  cowardly. 
You  do  not  wish  me  to  leave  you  now,  in  the  midst 
of  trouble  ?  I  will  stay  right  by  you,  Helen.  You 
may  need  me.  You  know  me  too  well  now,  not  to  feel 
that  this  is  all.  I  shall  not  pain  you  after  this  with 
words  of  love.  But  Helen,  remember,  I  love  you. 
That  is  as  immutable  as  the  laws  of  God.  And  knowing 
that,  trust  it." 

The  countenance  of  beautiful  gratitude,  faith  and 
affection  she  turned  to  him,  shook  his  whole  being  with 
a  pang  that  again  rendered  him  silent,  but  when  she 
softly  bent  over  her  saddle  and  kissed  his  white  ungloved 
hand  with  her  warm,  fresh  lips,  a  thrill  of  life,  a  revivi 
fication  of  strength  and  heavenly  peace  crept  sweetly 
through  his  veins. 


170  SAKDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

DISCOVERED. 

I  waive  the  quantum  o'  the  sin, 

The  hazard  of  concealing; 
But  och !  it  hardens  a'  within, 

And  petrifies  the  feeling! 

Burns. 

THERE  is  an  unbought  grace  of  feeling  which  some 
rare  women  possess  for  their  own  sex,  to  which  even  the 
word  chivalry  could  not  add  dignity.  And  yet  no  other 
so  roundly  expresses  the  delicacy  of  honor  which  bor 
ders  on  generous  pride  —  the  fear  of  intrusion  or  self- 
assertion  which  modestly  waives  its  own  rights ;  or  the 
swift  and  gracious  acknowledgment  of  another's  claims 
or  desires.  Not  all  have  that  sense  of  justice  "imbued 
with  sanctity  of  reason,"  which  can  brook  the  advance 
ment  of  a  rival. 

Having  touched  the  sublime  sharp  summit  of  her  own 
passion,  and  reached  that  noble  altitude  from  which  she 
could  readily  survey  her  situation,  Helen,  by  her  inher 
ent  sense  of  righteousness,  determined,  unconsciously, 
her  manner  of  action.  She  was  incapable  of  double- 
mindedness,  and  being  sure  that  her  husband  was  worthy 
of  the  highest  happiness,  she  awaited  whatever  issue 
might  arise,  with  the  sole  purpose  of  furthering  his  joy. 
Few  could  endure  with  equanimity  the  presence  of  the 
woman  who  daily  robbed  them  of  the  love  they  craved. 
But,  with  an  invulnerable  sense  of  justice,  Helen  recog 
nized  the  fact  that  this  affection  had  arisen  long  before 
she  had  known  her  husband,  and  acknowledged  with 


A  WOMAN'S  GALLANTRY  171 

self-abasement  and  bitter  regret,  that  she  had  inoppor 
tunely,  although  so  innocently,  stepped  between  two 
lovers,  who  doubtless  might  easily  have  explained  some 
unfortunate  misconception.  The  more  deeply  she  loved, 
herself,  the  more  humble  she  grew,  and  at  times  her 
position  as  the  unloved  wife  of  a  man  whose  whole 
heart  yearned  for  another,  and  that  other  her  most  inti 
mate  friend,  was  well-nigh  intolerable.  To  Sybil,  whom 
personally  she  had  loved  and  admired  from  her  child 
hood,  she  gave  a  sweet  patience  and  tender  courtesy  of 
manner  which  would  have  touched  a  generous  heart  to 
its  depths.  It  was  as  if  she  flung  her  very  spirit  with 
compassion  and  determination  around  these  two,  as  a 
protective  and  salutary  power.  She  equalized  their 
loves  with  her  own,  and  inevitably  made  a  divine  rapport 
of  true  gallantry  between  herself  and  them  which  pene 
trated  their  souls  without  presenting  itself  in  words  to 
their  minds.  Ealfe  instinctively  recognized  her  as  his 
silent  ally  without  being  able  to  give  a  reason  for  what, 
in  fact,  was  intuition.  Sybil  felt  it  also,  but  with  an 
opposition  and  repulsion  which  sprang  from  her  egotistic 
pride.  It  Avas  the  natural  hatred  of  a  dark  and  narrow 
intention  for  the  air-sweetness  of  wide,  clear,  high  and 
open  motive.  But  with  a  certain  consistent  inconsist 
ency,  she  enjoyed  and  accepted  all  the  practical  favors 
heaped  upon  her  by  Helen's  stintless  hand ;  nor  did  she 
scruple  to  make  her  wishes  known  by  a  hundred  artistic 
methods,  any  one  of  which  would  have  appeared  the 
simplest  and  most  casual  observation  to  any  one  not  on 
the  alert  to  please.  Realizing  with  the  intensest  sensi 
tiveness  the  possibility  of  what  Sybil  might  have  com 
manded  had  Ralfe's  wishes  been  carried  out,  there  was 
hardly  a  fancy  which  her  friend  manifested  for  anything 
she  possessed  that  Helen  did  not  quietly  gratify,  —  and 
to  Sybil's  secret  amazement  and  contempt,  she  often 
gave  more  than  was  requested. 


172  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  flay  when  she  had  desired 
Ralfe  to  take  the  ring  to  be  mended,  she  was  in  her  own 
room  dressing,  when  Sybil,  as  was  her  frequent  custom, 
tapped  at  the  door,  and  at  the  same  moment,  Wilson 
deferentially  asked  Miss  Visonti  if  madame  was  in. 
Helen  spoke  pleasantly  as  she  opened  the  door  and 
said,  — 

"  Ah,  Wilson,  what  have  you  there  ?  " 

"  A  package  for  you,  madame,"  and  bowed  himself 
away,  while  Sybil  cried  enthusiastically,  — 

"Jewelry,  I  know  !     Richest  gems  in  smallest  cases." 

Helen  smiled  as  she  unwrapped  the  tiny  box  and 
answered,  — 

"Nothing  new  this  time.  It  is  only  my  ring,"  and 
took  off  the  cover.  On  the  top  lay  a  narrow  paper 
which  proved  to  be  the  bill  carefully  made  out  and 
receipted,  which  Ealfe  in  his  agitation  had  com 
pletely  forgotten.  Helen  read  it  with  a  look  of  aston 
ishment,  but  said  nothing  and  continued  to  examine  the 
box.  In  the  midst  of  the  pink  cotton  was  the  ring, 
flashing  its  well-known  gems  in  a  pretty  glitter,  and 
beside  it  a  tiny  tissue  paper  contained  the  paste  stones 
which  had  filled  their  places. 

Sybil  had  breathlessly  watched  the  disclosure  of  her 
guilt  with  a  face  flushing  from  dark  red  to  gray,  and 
now,  convinced  that  concealment  was  useless,  sprang  to 
Helen's  side  and  dropped  gracefully  at  her  feet,  hiding 
her  dark  head  in  the  drapery  of  her  skirts. 

"  Oh,  do  not  condemn  me,  dearest,"  she  half  sobbed, 
half  murmured.  "  How  horribly  unlucky  I  am  !  If  you 
knew,  if  you  knew  the  terrible  necessity  which  drove 
me  to  it !  you  would  not  utter  a  word  to  scold  me.  I 
dared  not  ask  to  borrow  such  a  sum,  I  was  too  proud  to 
do  so ;  and  you  know,  dear  Helen,  how  miserably  small 
my  pittance  of  an  income  is.  It  was  only  for  two  or 


THE  DOMINANT  "  I  "  173 

three  days.  If  you  had  not  happened  to  ask  for  it, 
you  would  never  have  known  anything  about  it.  I 
was  going  to  have  the  stones  changed  myself  this  very 
day."  As  Helen  did  not  reply  she  looked  up  pitifully 
and  anxiously  into  her  face,  her  tear-stained  cheeks  ap 
pealing  more  than  her  words.  "  Do  you  not  believe  it  ? 
See,  see,  I  have  the  money,  this  moment,  —  oh,  I  swear 
to  you  I  only  gave  security  in  that  way  for  a  few, 
few  days  !  Here,  take  it,  take  it !  "  and  she  drew  a  roll 
of  bills  from  her  purse.  "  I  am  so  glad  I  can  confess  — 
so  glad  you  found  it  out.  Was  it  not  rather  a  clever 
way  ?  But  I  felt  dreadfully  anxious,  —  oh !  "  rising  and 
throwing  up  her  arms.  "  I  feel  as  if  a  weight  were  off 
me  ! " 

Some  peaches  were  on  the  table.  She  picked  one 
up  and  began  to  eat  it.  Her  hostess  smiled.  In  spite 
of  the  shock  of  disgust  and  displeasure  which  this 
unlooked-for  confession  provoked,  she  could  not  help  a 
sense  of  scornful  amusement  at  the  ever-present,  ever- 
dominant  self,  the  "  I "  of  this  unscrupulous  woman, 
who,  in  the  very  midst  of  exposure  and  degradation, 
could  admire  herself  as  clever,  and,  thinking  only  of 
what  she  felt,  cast  not  a  glance  on  the  moral  phase  of 
the  affair.  She  had  not  brushed  the  tear  from  her 
cheek  before  she  had  begun  to  indulge  herself.  The 
fruit  looked  tempting ;  why  should  she  not  eat  it  ? 

Helen  as  yet  had  not  uttered  a  word,  but  stood  and 
looked  at  Sybil,  who  daintily  ate  the  peach,  with  a  posi 
tively  nonplussed  expression. 

She  was  mechanically  holding  the  money  which  had 
been  thrust  in  her  hand,  and  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to 
act  or  answer. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  Sybil  brightly,  looking 
up  with  a  childish  expression  from  the  fruit.  "  Haven't 
I  explained  enough  ?  Haven't  I  done  all  I  could  ?  I'm 


174  SAEDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

sure  I  have  paid  for  my  folly  pretty  roundly.  I  hate 
to  cry !  You  always  make  such  a  to-do  over  any  little 
trifle  like  that !  " 

"It  is  a  question  of  honor  moral  and  legal,"  said 
Helen,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  cried  Sybil  impatiently  ;  "  if  I 
hand  you  the  money  to  pay  the  bill,  what  more  do  you 
want  ?  What  has  honor  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

Her  friend  gave  a  little  sigh. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  slowly  and  with  an  air  of  quiet 
determination,  "  that  I  shall  take  this  money  which  you 
offer  me,  as  an  equivalent  for  what  has  been  paid  out. 
It  is  but  fair.  I  cannot  say  how  sorry  I  am  that  you 
should  have  been  so  unfortunately  pressed  for  money  as 
to  be  obliged  to  do  something  so  unbecoming.  I  beg 
of  you  henceforth  to  make  me  your  confidante  and  tell 
me  plainly  of  your  needs,  rather  than  to  resort  to  such 
devices.  Pardon  me,  Sybil,  but  I  do  not  think  it  clever. 
I  need  not  tell  a  person  of  your  intelligence  that  such 
an  affair  could  be  made  very  disagreeable  for  you  if 
practised  on  any  but  a  friend.  Certainly,  it  would 
have  been  better  to  have  trusted  me  rather  than  to 
have  risked  my  confidence.  Have  I  ever  refused  you 
anything  ?  " 

"  No,  but  you  would  have  refused  so  large  a  sum  as 
that,"  replied  Sybil  sullenly,  looking  askance  at  the 
money  which  her  friend  still  held. 

Her  ingratitude  seemed  to  close  a  door  in  Helen's 
heart.  She  folded  up  the  bills  and  put  them  away. 

"  My  first  impulse  was  to  give  that  back  to  you,"  said 
she,  coming  close  to  Sybil  and  touching  her  hair  gently. 
"  I  thought  if  you  had  so  terrible  a  necessity  as  to  cause 
you  to  sell  my  diamonds  that  you  still  must  need  it  far 
more  than  I.  But  I  still  have  so  much  confidence  in 
your  intention  to  have  replaced  the  stones,  that  I  will 


A  PERFECT  BALANCE  175 

not  dishonor  your  integrity  by  so  indelicate  an  act  as 
to  refuse  to  allow  you  to  stand  squarely  with  yourself 
and  with  me.  But  if  you  find  yourself  again  in  similar 
circumstances,  I  assure  you  that  you  will  find  me  happy 
and  ready  to  help  you." 

Sybil  could  not  withstand  this  sweet  and  healthy 
consideration  which  seemed  to  be  emitted  in  steady 
and  limitless  kindness,  yet  which  calmly  preserved  the 
rightful  measure  of  its  way.  With  a  momentary  impulse 
of  admiration  she  kissed  the  hand  so  softly  touching 
her  and  murmured,  "  How  God  must  love  you ! "  but 
added  to  herself  as  instantaneously,  "  But  I  do  not ! " 

A  light  knock  at  the  door  gave  her  an  excuse  to 
escape  from  what  she  mentally  termed  "no  end  of  a  row," 
and  she  quickly  went  out  through  another  chamber, 
not  waiting  to  see  who  entered.  It  proved  to  be  Ralfe, 
who  had  bethought  him  of  the  receipt  which  he  feared 
the  honest  jeweller  would  enclose  with  the  ring.  "If 
so,  Helen  will  certainly  comprehend  the  whole  thing," 
he  thought  anxiously ;  and  at  last  he  became  so  troubled 
that  he  could  not  help  trying  to  ascertain. 

It  was  but  seldom  that  he  appeared  in  Helen's  sitting 
room,  and  now  he  paused  hesitatingly  on  the  threshold, 
although  her  voice  told  him  pleasantly  to  come  in.  She 
approached  the  door  with  a  brilliant  smile  lighting  her 
features.  The  excitement  of  the  interview  had  given 
her  cheeks  a  flush  of  divinest  rose.  He  thought  he  had 
never  seen  her  so  full  of  an  inexpressible  completeness. 
She  seemed  in  her  place  and  moved  with  a  perfect  bal 
ance.  Her  eyes  were  at  once  bright  and  tender. 

He  said  carelessly,  "  I  wondered  if  the  man  had  sent 
your  ring.  I  remembered  that  you  would  like  it  for 
dinner." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  almost  as  carelessly,  "  and  I  desire 
to  be  Miss  Visonti's  agent  for  the  nonce,  and  pay  the 


176  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

bill  which  you  so  kindly  settled.  She  has  just  left  me 
the  money.  She  said  it  was  a  mere  matter  of  a  day." 

"  Did  you  know  of  it  then  ? "  he  asked,  very  much 
surprised. 

"  No,  not  until  she  told  me  just  now.  But  I  want  to 
thank  you  from  my  heart,  not  only  for  seeing  that  my 
mother's  ring  should  suffer  no  harm,  but  for  endeavoring 
to  prevent  me  from  knowing  my  friend's  mistake.  Of 
course  I  was  troubled  that  she  had  not  saved  herself  an 
unpleasant  experience  by  borrowing  the  money  of  me. 
I  appreciate  your  delicacy  fully." 

"  The  jeweller  sent  the  bill,  I  suppose  ?  To  tell  the 
truth  I  forgot  it.  I  did  not  intend  you  should  know 
anything  about  it." 

Helen  smiled  with  the  least  touch  of  sarcasm. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not !  But  you  cannot  escape  my 
gratitude.  Here  is  the  money  Sybil  gave  me.  It  was 
doubtless  a  very  trying  necessity  which  forced  her  to 
this  act.  She  said  she  was  ashamed  —  too  proud  to 
borrow  such  a  sum,  and  that  she  certainly  intended 
to  replace  the  stones."  And  she  handed  him  four  one- 
hundred-dollar  notes. 

He  started  as  if  stung.  He  instantly  recognized 
them. 

"  Does  she  know  I  did  the  errand  ? "  he  asked  in 
a  low  voice,  looking  at  the  money  with  a  singular 
expression. 

"No.  I  felt  sure  that  you  would  not  like  to  pain  her 
by  letting  her  know  that  her  secret  had  become  known 
to  you.  Surely  it  was  enough  for  her  to  suffer  the 
knowledge  that  I  had  discovered  it." 

He  flushed  with  sudden  emotion. 

"  It  is  you  who  deserve  gratitude.  We  both  owe  you 
gratitude  beyond  words."  And  with  a  look  that  she 
never  forgot  he  suddenly  left  Helen  alone. 


SARDIA   KNEW  177 

"  How  strange  ! "  thought  she,  as  she  stood  gazing 
unconsciously  at  the  closed  door,  "how  strange,  that 
so  soon,  so  very  soon  after  our  determination  to  let 
things  take  their  own  course,  this  incident  should  occur ! 
How  clearly  Sardia  reads  human  nature !  What  would 
he  say  if  he  knew  this !  I  know ;  he  would  repeat,  '  God 
takes  care  of  His  children.'  "  Then  softly  dropping 
on  her  knees,  she  clasped  her  hands  and  uttered,  "  But, 
dear  Father,  she  is  Thy  child  too." 


178  SAKDIA:  A  STOHY   OF   LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    VAMPIRE. 

"  Beautiful  as  sweet! 

And  young  as  beautiful!    And  soft  as  young! 
And  gay  as  soft!    and  innocent  as  gay ! " 

Young. 

"  Find  out  the  cause  of  this  effect; 
Or  rather  say  the  cause  of  this  defect, 
For  this  effect  defective  comes  by  cause." 

Hamlet. 

SARDIA  stood  leaning  against  an  urn  of  flowers  by 
the  great  entrance  one  evening,  while  Guy  by  his  side 
idly  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  They  stood  together 
in  that  attitude  of  unconscious  confidence  which  needs 
no  words  to  betray  a  mutual  respect  and  affection. 
They  were  both  watching  two  ladies  who  were  gently 
moving  over  the  grass,  absorbed  in  low  conversation. 

One  was  Lulu,  who  was  half  encircled  by  the  embra 
cing  arm  of  Sybil  Visonti,  and  her  cheeks  were  dotted  by 
two  bright  hectic  spots,  while  all  the  rest  of  her  pretty 
face  was  unusually  pale.  Every  moment  or  two  she 
instinctively  half  thrust  away  the  little  dark  hand  that 
lay  on  her  hip,  yet  she  was  so  engaged  in  conversation 
that  she  did  not  persist.  It  was  a  nervous,  unconscious 
movement,  evidently  not  directed  by  the  will. 

Sardia  suddenly  turned  a  keen  questioning  glance  on 
Guy  and  said,  "  Do  you  like  to  see  that  ?  " 

Mr.  Thome  looked  amused  and  surprised.  "  Does  a 
man  like  to  look  at  the  woman  he  loves  ?  At  two  beau- 


GUY'S  DEEP   EEVERY  179 

tiful  women  displaying  their  prettiest  charms  ?  Oh, 
no !  of  course  not,"  and  he  laughed. 

"  If  I  loved  a  woman  I  would  take  care  of  her,"  his 
friend  said  in  a  cold,  slow  way. 

Guy  started  up.  "  Is  it  chilly  ?  "  and  he  moved  to 
wards  the  house.  "I  will  get  a  wrap." 

"  Stay.  It  is  not  chilly.  Do  you  believe  in  animal 
magnetism,  Guy  ?  The  power  of  one  will  over  another  ? 
If  *you  do  not  you  cannot  see  those  women  from  the 
same  standpoint  that  I  do.  But  is  not  Lulu  thin,  ex 
citable,  changed  ?  Where  is  her  blithe  laugh  ?  I 
miss  it." 

Guy  looked  troubled.  "So  do  I.  Yet  I  had  not 
thought  of  it.  And  it  is  I  who  love  her.  Sardia,  old 
fellow,  —  tell  me,  out  with  it.  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  cannot  better  answer  you  than  to  tell  you  to 
watch.  Open  your  eyes,"  and  he  sauntered  off. 

Guy  fell  into  a  deep  revery.  The  soft  chatter  of  the 
voices  kept  up  an  accompaniment  to  his  thought.  He 
earnestly  compared  in  his  own  mind  what  Lulu  had 
been  in  the  early  summer,  and  what  she  was  now. 

Sardia's  few  words  had  reminded  him  of  his  own 
vague  fears,  which,  strongly  accented  on  the  Visonti's 
first  arrival,  had  been  lulled  to  rest  by  contact  with 
her  inscrutable  charm,  and  he  now  found  his  darling 
brought  before  him  in  a  new  light.  She  was  no  longer 
the  gay,  merry,  light-hearted,  laughing  Lulu.  She  no 
longer  spent  her  days  in  every  possible  out-door  exer 
cise  ;  "  wild "  over  horseback  riding ;  having  a  craze 
for  a  tricycle  ;  rowing  her  tiny  hands  brown  and  callous  ; 
only  too  happy  when  standing  the  living  figure-head  of 
his  jolly  sail-boat  and  glorying  in  the  rough  weather  or 
stiff  breezes  that  tossed  her  like  a  plume.  Where  was 
the  shout  with  which  she  raced  down-stairs,  and  when 
softly  rebuked  for  being  not  quite  lady -like,  the  smiling 


180  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOYE 

pout  and  coquettish  defiance  with  which  she  sprang 
from  his  detaining  arms  ?  Where  were  the  overflow 
ing  life,  the  madcap  pranks  with  which  she  had  assailed 
him  and  tortured  him,  leading  him  a  dance  which  only 
made  him  adore  her  more  and  more  ?  Now  he  found 
her  lying  languidly  in  the  library  or  on  the  long  seats 
in  the  summer-house.  She  refused  the  beautiful  twi 
light  walks  so  dear  to  him,  she  was  so  tired.  She  lay 
back  among  the  cushions  of  the  boat  and  gazed  drearujly 
across  the  waves,  instead  of  insisting  on  minding  the 
wheel.  Her  sweet  temper  had  thrown  out  sudden 
flashes  of  anger  and  irritability,  —  in  a  moment  atoned 
for,  to  be  sure,  by  a  melancholy  little  prayer  for  forgive 
ness,  —  why,  had  he  been  blind,  deaf,  dumb  ?  Fool 
that  he  was,  had  it  not  been  for  Sardia  how  long  would 
his  soul  have  been  stupidly  unmindful  and  unheeding  ? 
He  rose  from  his  seat  on  the  step  and  walked  swiftly 
towards  the  young  women. 

"  Lulu,  I  want  you,"  he  said  sharply. 

The  Yisonti  stopped  in  her  walk,  and  Lulu  gazed  at 
him  in  a  sort  of  unseeing  way,  as  if  her  mind  was  so  far 
off  that  she  had  not  comprehended.  For  a  moment  the 
man  and  woman  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  with  a 
singular  intensity.  If  she  read  anything  that  was  in 
his  thoughts,  it  elicited  only  defiance  in  Sybil.  She 
drew  her  arm  closer  about  Lulu  with  a  sort  of  possessive 
pressure  and  looking  softly  into  her  eyes,  slowly  moved 
her  away,  saying  gently  but  significantly,  — 

"  Lulu,  J  want  you." 

It  was  a  mockery  so  delicate  and  so  well  done  that  it 
left  Guy  standing  there,  unable  to  utter  a  word,  although 
he  literally  shook  from  head  to  foot  with  a  sudden  tide 
of  hot  yet  impotent  rage.  Yet  what  could  he  do  ?  Here 
were  two  ladies  chatting,  *  and  one  playfully  retained 
her  companion.  "\Yas  he  to  murder  her  on  the  spot  ? 


"YOU  SHALL  LOVE  ME"  181 

He  felt  like  it.  He  went  into  the  house  and  to  his 
room,  threw  off  his  coat,  put  his  heels  on  top  of  a  chair- 
back  and  smoked.  It  was  a  long  time  before  he  rejoined 
the  party.  He  did  not  know,  —  why  should  he  ? — how 
in  spite  of  the  little  episode  of  her  first  visit  to  Sybil's 
room,  Lulu  had  almost  immediately  overlooked  and  for 
gotten  her  sudden  disgust.  The  very  next  day  she  had 
been  made  so  conscience-stricken  by  the  extreme  kind 
ness  of  Miss  Visonti,  and  had  been  so  quietly  laughed 
out  of  her  "pretty  anger"  by  her  new  friend,  that  she 
felt  she  had  been  absurdly  annoyed.  Sybil  was  so 
exquisitely  thoughtful,  so  delicate,  her  devotion  to  Lulu 
was  so  unpretending,  yet  so  certain,  that  it  exercised  a 
singular  influence,  a  soft  flattery  to  which  her  innocent 
heart  yielded  with  gratitude.  She  began  to  know  the 
charm  of  being  sought,  —  sought  persistently,  patiently, 
humbly.  She  began  to  feel  that  her  love  and  friendship 
to  this  one  woman  at  least  was  invaluable,  —  possessing 
an  exceptional  preciousness.  She  felt  that  she  possessed 
the  key  to  a  thousand  times  richer  nature  than  her  own. 
The  magician  made  her  believe  that  she  herself  held  the 
wand. 

"  You  cannot  get  rid  of  me,"  Sybil  softly  whispered, 
winding  a  sunny  lock  of  Lulu's  bright  hair  about  her 
fingers.  "  Nothing  shall  drive  me  away.  I  will  hang 
on  until  you  love  me  whether  you  want  me  or  not.  I 
will  have  you  love  me  in  spite  of  yourself,"  and  every 
tone  was  a  caress,  every  syllable  a  tender  tyranny. 
And  there  were  so  many  lovable  things  about  her !  Her 
conversation,  rapid,  caustic,  witty,  filled  with  personal 
description  and  anecdote,  kept  the  mind  on  the  qui  vive 
to  attend,  while  the  ear  was  soothed  by  the  rare  modu 
lations  of  her  trained  voice.  And  intellectually,  Lulu 
did  love  her,  agree  with  her,  appreciate  her  and  delight 
in  association  with  her.  It  was  but  seldom  that  she  was 


182        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

again  surprised  by  a  moral  lapse,  —  and  then,  how  grace 
ful  was  the  apology.  How  small  and  illiberal  the  moral 
side  of  the  light  sensualism  appeared. 

Lulu  felt  but  one  exaction  in  all  this  rosy  intercourse. 
Sybil  insisted  that  she  should  trust  her.  "Believe  me 
true,  true  to  the  very  core,  darling.  It  is  all  I  ask.  Look 
deeper  than  the  surface.  Read  the  core  of  my  heart.  In 
you  I  see  my  salvation,  my  hope  of  better  things.  Life 
has  in  its  way  been  bitter  to  me.  By  some  strange  mis 
chance,  I  seem  never  to  have  been  understood.  My  quality 
is  so  different  from  the  American  fibre,  —  yet  I  recognize 
in  you  its  counterpart,  —  a  quality  so  subtly  deep  and  rich 
that  the  world  can  never  fathom  it.  Let  us  fathom  each 
other.  Let  us  prove  to  ourselves  if  to  none  others,  that 
there  can  exist  between  two  women  a  love,  holy,  pure, 
exalted,  which  no  change  of  circumstance  can  alter,  no 
selfishness  or  jealousy  can  make  less  true.  Let  us  enter 
into  a  sweet  secret  together  of  undying  faith  and  mutual 
help,  that  for  once  in  all  this  great  sceptical  world  we 
may  bring  out  the  possibilities  of  womanly  character,  — 
a  loyalty  so  belied,  so  scouted,  that  but  to  admit  it  exists 
is  to  be  scorned."  Her  flashing  eyes  and  indignant  atti 
tude  supplemented  their  eloquence  to  the  appeal. 

And  remembering  with  pity  the  sad  tears,  the  aspira 
tion  she  had  overheard  by  the  sea;  her  imagination 
filled  with  crosses  and  sorrows  which  were  all  the  more 
terrible  because  so  mysterious ;  Lulu  with  all  her  sweet 
soul  tossed  by  varied  emotions,  sprang  into  Sybil's  arms 
and  sealed  the  compact  with  a  long,  clinging  kiss,  the 
first  that  she  had  voluntarily  tendered  to  her  woman- 
lover. 

As  time  went  on  the  pressure  of  this  exaction  began 
to  be  felt.  Yet  so  supreme  was  her  loyalty,  so  self-sac 
rificing  the  purity  of  her  intention,  that  Lulu  neither 
understood  nor  analyzed  her  position. 


SUBTLE  ENTICEMENTS  183 

With  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  which  had  been  so 
gradually  yet  surely  awakened,  she  longed  to  do  any 
thing,  to  give  anything,  to  be  anything  to  show  the 
intensity  of  her  devotion,  the  unadulteration  of  her 
friendship.  Fired  with  the  thought  that  she  in  her 
girlish  inexperience,  had  still  in  her  some  magnetic 
"  quality "  which  held  this  magnificent  woman  of  the 
world  in  the  mesh  of  her  lightest  will,  she  abandoned 
herself  mentally  and  physically  to  the  fascinating  pleas 
ure  of  giving  that  joy  which  thrilled  the  Visonti  with 
visible  emotion.  Many  and  many  a  time  when  taking 
their  afternoon  siesta,  Sybil,  capturing  her  hand,  had 
gently  drawn  it  to  her  own  brown  throat,  her  very  heart, 
where,  beneath  its  light  pressure,  Lulu  could  feel  the 
blood  leap  in  an  ecstasy  she  could  not  understand. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  floating  on  white  clouds,  dearest, 
when  you  touch  me.  My  body  is  light  as  air,  and  my 
soul  seems  to  drift  into  a  fairy  realm.  What  magic  lies 
in  these  precious  finger-tips  to  give  me  such  an  unknown 
happiness  !  "  And  murmuring  sweet  poetic  phrases,  she 
would  still  entice  the  pretty  hand. 

Taking  advantage  of  a  sudden  influx  of  visitors,  Sybil 
had  begged  to  be  allowed  to  share  her  large  apartment 
with  Lulu,  and  although  Helen  in  her  thoughtful  hospi 
tality  had  endeavored  to  leave  each  guest  undisturbed, 
the  assurances  of  both  that  it  would  be  only  the  more 
agreeable,  decided  her  to  arrange  it  in  that  way,  and 
soon  the  two  friends  were  associated  far  more  intimately 
than  before. 

And  if,  with  an  occasional  access  of  her  original  ten 
dencies,  Lulu  deserted  Sybil  for  a  whole  day,  or  went 
away  with  Guy  to  spend  delicious  hours  of  chat  and  fun, 
regaining  in  his  wholesome  presence,  the  strong,  fresh 
vitality,  which  was  her  constitutional  condition,  she 
would  soon  be  made  to  feel  how  lonely,  how  sad,  how 


184  SARDIA:   A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

longing  for  her  had  been  the  time  for  Sybil, 
although  occupied  with  her  own  affairs,  protested  that 
in  her  heart  all  was  dreariness  without  the  light  of 
Lulu's  smile. 

Then  too,  the  little  demons  of  vanity  and  jealousy, 
which  lurk  in  every  heart,  were  roused  by  the  compar 
ison  of  Helen's  constancy.  For  Sybil  claimed  all  that 
was  to  be  claimed  from  that  source. 

She  was  made  to  feel  that  Helen  was  so  tender,  so 
generous,  so  loving,  so  comprehensive,  —  not  like  her, 
cold,  sarcastic,  indifferent,  cruel,  irresponsive  or  careless 
of  the  ever-increasing  love  she  had  awakened. 

That  love  seemed  to  close  around  her,  cling  to  her, 
fall  about  her  like  a  beautiful  gauze,  through  which  she 
could  hear  and  see  the  outside  world,  biit  which  envel 
oped  her  so  perfectly  as  to  net  her  in. 

It  was  the  shimering  film  of  a  soft  veil  which  seemed 
to  shut  her  in,  body  and  soul,  to  this  enthralling  friend 
ship,  against  which  she  had  but^  spasmodic  inclinations 
to  struggle ;  and  having  struggled  with  a  vehement, 
passionate,  nerve-shaking  revolt,  like  a  sudden  fury  of 
anger,  suspicion,  or  unspeakable  horror  and  hate,  left  her 
in  a  weakness,  a  dulness  and  indifference,  which  was 
only  chafed  or  soothed  into  passive  acceptance  again  by 
the  soft  sarcasms  or  softer  persuasions  of  her  companion. 

Of  the  growing  familiarity  of  this  association,  Lulu 
said  nothing  to  Guy,  although  she  daily  declared  to 
herself  that  she  would  confess,  —  what  ?  That  although 
he  had  warned  her  to  beware,  she  had  left  his  desire 
unheeded  ?  That  she  had,  although  he  begged  her  not  to 
stay  one  moment  alone  with  the  Visonti,  for  several 
weeks  shared  her  room  ? 

Perhaps  that  would  seem  to  throw  some  blame  on 
Helen,  and  besides,  was  she  in  duty  bound  to  run  to  him 
with  every  little  thing  ?  Was  she  not  capable  of  ruling 


STAINING  THE  MAGNOLIA  185 

her  own  affairs,  if  she  could  rule  this  lovely  woman 
with  a  frown  ?  Her  pride,  her  shame,  her  sense  of  the 
pleasure  of  her  secret,  all  led  her  to  keep  silent,  while 
Sybil  had  often  with  pricking  pleasantry  scorned  in  a 
general  way,  the  idea  of  masculine  intrusion. 

"Must  we  make  our  lovers  our  father-confessors,  our 
guardians,  our  popes  infallible  ? "  she  cried  one  day 
when  Lulu  said,  "I  had  better  ask  Guy,"  about  some 
intended  excursion.  "  Are  you  at  the  knee  of  your 
future  husband,  or  is  he  at  yours  ?  The  attitude  of  self- 
abasement  would  not  be  pleasing  to  me,  no  matter  how 
much  I  loved  a  man.  And  mark  me,  sweet,  what  now 
you  offer,  after  marriage  he  will  exact.  But,  of  course, 
go,  tell  him  the  whole  of  your  dear  little  heart  out. 
Even  if  you  will,  tell  him  of  my  bondage  to  you,  and 
let  him  sneer  at  what  he  would  call  a  woman's  passion. 
Subject  even  the  sacred  beauty  of  our  love  to  the  cynical 
criticisms  of  his  man-like  analysis.  Oh !  I  am  not 
jealous  of  him.  Do  not  believe  that.  I  have  never 
intruded  myself  between  you  one  hair,  have  I  ?  But, 
Lulu,  my  Lulu,  do  not  let  him  intrude  between  us,"  and 
with  a  wild,  hungry  look,  pitiful  in  its  seeming  intensity, 
she  pleaded  as  if  for  an  almost  lost  treasure. 

The  young  girl  felt  her  brain  whirl  with  a  sense  of 
her  subjugation  of  this  woman.  She  assumed  an  expres 
sion  which  infinitely  amused  Sybil,  while  it  pricked  her 
to  sudden  wrath.  Murmuring  her  promises  and  assur 
ances  as  a  mother  soothes  a  nervous  child,  "  Why,  dear 
Sybil,"  she  said,  "  are  you  so  fearful  that  my  noble  Guy 
could  not  understand  your  tenderness  for  me  ?  You 
wrong  him,  I  know  you  do.  Should  he  ever  again 
intimate  that  he — he  —  wants  me  all  to  himself,  I  will 
tell  him  frankly,  that  your  love  and  mine  is  something 
totally  different,  —  so  impossible  to  contain  the  same 
elements  that  are  in  his  love  and  mine,  that  they  are 


186  SAEDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

quite  distinct,  —  quite  unapproachable  by  any  compari 
son."  And  with  all  the  loyalty  of  her  soul  aflame,  she 
determined  to  let  nothing  so  much  as  cast  a  shadow  over 
so  high  and  fine  an  union. 

"  So  he  has  intimated  that  I  am  trying  to  take  you 
away  from  him  ?  "  said  Sybil  reproachfully,  looking  at 
her  as  if  with  still  an  unsatisfied  doubt. 

Lulu  blushed,  remembering  his  saying  about  the  mag 
nolia.  To  hide  her  confusion  she  left  the  room,  flinging 
her  answer  gayly  back.  "  Oh,  he  was  a  little  jealous 
too." 

Sybil  grew  dark  as  the  cloud-rack  that  was  driving  up 
the  sky.  As  she  pushed  wider  the  blinds,  and  felt  the 
first  cool  drops  beat  on  her  up-turned  forehead,  her 
stormy  brow  seemed  to  invoke  the  thunder  which  sud 
denly  rolled  across  the  zenith  with  tremendous  echoes. 
Casting  a  long  look  down  the  dim  hall  through  which 
Lulu  was  passing,  she  shook  with  scornful  laughter. 
She  tossed  her  arm  lightly  towards  the  retreating  figure, 
and  then  gazed  at  its  luxurious  display  of  round,  soft 
curves  with  a  sensuous  admiration.  Tapping  the  wrist 
lightly  with  her  fingers  and  nodding  her  head  towards 
it  gently  and  slowly,  she  murmured,  "But  her  young 
life  throbs  here." 


BY  THE  BLAZE  187 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    STUNNING   ANNOUNCEMENT. 

"  Thoughts,  that  voluntary  move 
Harmonious  numbers." 

"  On  a  sudden  open  fly 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound 
Th'  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder." 

THE  heavy  shower  settled  into  a  steady  rain  when 
evening  came  down,  and  as  it  happened  that  no  engage 
ment  of  any  importance  had  been  made  by  any  of  the 
party,  after  dinner  they  all  Avent  into  the  great  drawing- 
room  which,  with  a  crackling  wood  fire  and  many  wax  can 
dles,  looked  surprisingly  inviting.  As  if  it  were  winter, 
and  the  "cosey''  feeling  had  fallen  on  the  guests,  all 
gathered  about  the  blaze;  and  that  softly  confidential 
mood  which  seldom  extends  beyond  two  or  three  in  a 
group,  crept  over  even  the  most  reticent,  and  produced 
a  charming  chatter  from  one  to  the  other,  filled  with 
playful  banter  and  trifles  of  wit  which  sparkled  like  the 
hickory.  Snatches  of  conversation  were  caught  up  and 
commented  on  with  pleasant  laughter,  and  never  since 
the  first  breath  of  the  "  home "  atmosphere  on  their 
arrival,  had  they  all  been  so  thoroughly  careless  and  at 
ease. 

"  The  more  I  read,  the  more  I  wish  to,"  Lulu  was  say 
ing  to  Sardia.  "What  an  insatiable  appetite  is  this 
craving  for  knowledge  !  But  I  always  congratulate  my 
self  on  the  Eternities,  for  then  we  shall  not  be  hampered 


188  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

by  days,  hours,  and  weeks.  Then,  the  great  angel  of 
the  Apocalypse  shall  set  one  foot  on  sea  and  one  on  land 
and  declare  that  Time  shall  be  no  more.  But  I  always 
wondered  how  he  was  going  to  set  his  foot  on  the  sea, 
for  St.  John  said,  '  There  shall  be  no  more  sea,'  you 
remember." 

Sarclia  smilingly  put  by  her  incorrect  reading  and 
answered,  "  If  one  were  inclined,  one  might  easily  fancy 
that  the  saint  of  Patmos  was  preaching  a  grand  annihi 
lation,  so  many  majestic  things  he  makes  '  no  more  '  with 
a  sweep  of  his  pen." 

"  And  do  you  remember  how  he  ends  up  his  gospel  ?  " 
put  in  Charlie  Vane.  "  He  said,  '  And  there  are  many 
other  things  which  Jesus  did,  the  which  if  they  should 
be  written  every  one,  I  suppose  that  even  the  world 
itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be  written.' 
That  always  seemed  so  delightfully  naive,  so  innocent, 
to  me !  He  did  not  know  of  the  possibilities  of  nine 
teenth-century  publishers." 

"  I  suppose  the  surface  story  of  a  whole  life  could  be 
condensed  into  a  column  —  look  at  our  obituaries  of 
great  men,"  Guy  answered.  "But  the  life  of  the  soul 
—  the  inner  being  —  what  volume  could  contain  it  ?  " 

"People  have  smiled  over  and  again  at  the  seeming 
ignorance  of  that  divine  old  writer,"  Helen  remarked 
thoughtfully,  "  but  I  have  no  doubt  he  referred  to  things 
done  in  the  spirit  —  the  actions  of  the  soul  of  the  blas 
ter,  which  were  boundless  in  conception  and  intent,  com 
passing  the  whole  earth  indeed  and  intimately  connected 
with  its  past,  present,  and  future.  And  time  may  prove 
that  the  world  itself  is  a  book,  whereon  shall  be  written 
the  eternal  result  of  just  '  those  things  that  Jesus  did,' 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  lesser  matter." 

"  The  literature  of  materialism  is  doing  its  best  to  put 
in  a  chapter  and  teach  the  efficacy  of  present  and  eternal 


KALFE'S  POEM  189 

death.  There  is  an  annihilation  for  you  which  knocks 
out  old  Father  Time  the  first  round,"  exclaimed  Guy, 
rather  slangily. 

"  '  The  revelations  of  Devout  and  Learned 
Who  rose  before  us  and  as  prophets  burned, 
Are  all  but  stories,  which,  awoke  from  sleep, 
They  told  their  fellows  and  to  sleep  returned. 

Ah,  make  the  most  of  what  we  yet  may  spend, 

Before  we  too  into  the  dust  descend; 

Dust  into  dust  and  under  dust  to  lie 

Sans  wine,  sans  song,  sans  singer,  and  sans  end.' 

So  Omar  wrote  seven  hundred  years  ago,  and  who  shall 
say  him  nay  ?  " 

Sybil's  low,  melodious  voice  melted  into  the  silence 
like  a  shadow  into  the  moonlight,  the  cold,  sad  scepti 
cism  of  the  lines  taking  on  a  new  poetry  from  her  tones. 

"  I  am  not  dust !  "  cried  Lulu,  standing  up  and  flashing 
her  youthful  defiance  against  this  dry  philosophy.  "  I 
will  not  have  it  so.  Such  a  belief  casts  a  pall  over  the 
face  of  Hope." 

Ralfe  looked  at  her  appreciatively,  and  spoke  for  the 
first  time.  He  said,  — 

"  This  hath  been  found  in  rubric  letters  writ 
By  some  old  monk  of  piety  and  wit, 
Who  set  upon  his  missal's  well-thumbed  page 
These  verselets,  not  unmeet  a  later  age. 

I  am  the  golden  corn,  my  body  is  the  husk  ; 
I  am  the  gleaming  star,  my  body  is  the  dusk. 

I  am  the  silvery  pearl,  my  body  is  the  shell  ; 
I  am  the  water  bright,  my  body  is  the  well. 

I  am  the  emerald,  my  body  sets  it  round  ; 

I  am  the  love  i'  the  word,  my  body  is  the  sound. 

I  am  the  sympathy,  my  body  is  the  tear  ; 

I  am  the  loving  thought,  my  body  makes  it  clear. 


190  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

I  am  the  hearing,  sight,  my  body  ear  and  eye  ; 
I  am  the  will  to  go,  my  body  wings  to  fly. 

I  am  the  meaning  sweet,  my  body  is  the  rhyme  ; 
I  am  the  tune  i'  the  bell,  my  body  is  the  chime. 

I  am  the  subtle  scent,  my  body  is  the  flower  ; 
I  am  the  maiden  bride,  my  body  is  her  dower. 

I  am  the  architect,  my  body  is  the  stone  ; 

I  am  the  crowned  king,  my  body  is  his  throne. 

I  am  the  lesson  taught,  my  body  doth  but  teach  ; 
I  am  the  eloquence,  my  body  is  the  speech. 

I  am  the  germ  within,  my  body  is  the  seed  : 
I  am  the  deep  intent,  my  body  is  the  deed. 

I  am  the  charity,  my  body  is  the  act  ; 

I  am  the  wider  truth,  my  body  is  the  fact. 

I  am  the  chrysm  of  love,  my  body  is  the  kiss  ; 
I  am  the  finer  grace,  my  body  is  the  bliss. 

I  am  the  enemy,  my  body  is  the  wrong, 

I  am  the  praise  to  God,  my  body  is  the  song. 

I  am  communion  full,  my  body  is  the  prayer  ; 
I  am  the  living  soul,  my  body  I  but  wear. 

Immortal,  what  need  I  my  body  to  love  much  ? 
When  it  lies  dead,  I  see,  I  feel,  I  touch. 

Eternal,  then  and  now,  to-morrow  and  for  aye  ! 
I  shall  be  I,  unchanged,  —  my  body  scattered  clay. 

Ah,  wise  old  man,  who  centuries  ago 
From  his  soul's  joy  thus  simply  penned  the  truth  ! 

Long  hath  his  dust  been  flower  or  stream  or  snow, 
But  he  !  —  How  glorious  his  perennial  youth  !" 

Helen  had  listened  with  the  rest,  but  oh,  with  what 
an  expression  !  She  had  not  heard  but  a  few  couplets 
when  she  became  convinced  that  they  were  his  own.  He 


THE  MYSTIC   UNION  191 

caught  her  gaze  as  he  finished  and  thrilled  with  an  in 
tellectual  sympathy  so  fine  that  he  was  for  a  moment 
deaf  to  the  questionings,  the  guesses  as  to  the  author 
ship,  and  finally  the  accusations  and  congratulations 
which  his  evident  embarrassment  called  forth. 

"  So  that  is  what  you  have  been  doing  all  these  morn 
ings,"  cried  Guy,  giving  him  a  glance  of  happy  pride, 
"  flirting  with  the  Muses  !  The  whole  nine,  I'll  warrant. 
Ladies,  you  might  as  well  put  up  your  prett}r  arrows. 
He  has  already  been  struck  with  a  divine  weapon.  His 
especial  fancy  in  Muses  will  henceforth  appear  in  public, 
and  when  he  rides  Pegasus  she  will  play  ring-mistress. 
Come,  we  will  superintend  your  mental  gymnastics 
henceforth,  now  you  have  made  your  debut." 

Ralfe  stood  the  fire  of  their  badinage  with  his  usual 
imperturbability,  yet  resorting  to  his  defensive  little  catch 
word,  "  I  shall  be  charmed."  But  his  whole  being  was 
alive  to  the  strange  inspiration,  the  glow,  the  spiritual 
harmony,  which  seemed  to  infold  and  uplift  him  as  his 
eyes  again  sought  Helen's.  Had  they  been  alone,  he 
must  have  inevitably  approached  her,  touched  her, 
drawn  her  to  him,  so  strong,  so  irresistible  was  the 
attraction  of  this  silent  comprehension. 

It  was  as  if  flesh  was  forgotten  of  both,  done  with, 
thrown  off  for  the  moment,  and  only  their  "  I  ain  "  re 
mained,  mingling  in  mystic  and  delicious  union. 

The  wind  which  had  been  constantly  on  the  increase 
gave  a  sudden  sigh  about  the  house,  and  drove  a  gust  of 
drops  against  the  broad  panes,  which  startled  Lulu, 
whose  timid  fancies  of  late  had  grown  almost  pathetic. 
She  crept  close  to  Guy,  looking  fearingly  at  the  window 
and  trembled  slightly,  her  cold  fingers  clasping  his 
wrist  with  a  nervous  pressure.  For  in  the  avenue  were 
two  lights  like  giants'  eyes  speeding  up  the  darkness, 
and  soon  three  prancing  ghosts  of  horses  seemed  to  leap 


192  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

along  the  driveway  and  draw  up  with  a  plunge  under 
the  porte-cochere.  There  was  an  imperious  tap  of  the 
gong,  an  opening  of  the  great  doors,  a  rush  of  cool  air, 
the  musical  tinkle  of  little  silver  bells,  and  as  they  all 
involuntarily  started  up,  the  deep  voice  of  the  Princess 
Menshikoff  calling,  — 

"  Madame  !  Monsieur,  —  ah  !  but  it  blows  !  and  the 
ponies,  —  what  shall  be  done  with  them  ?  " 

The  rotund  James  who  had  let  her  in,  and  had  in  spite 
of  his  rigid  determination  to  be  astonished  at  nothing, 
nevertheless  stood  in  mute  bewilderment  gazing  at  the 
unwonted  sight  of  three  small,  cream-colored  horses, 
harnessed  abreast,  Russian  fashion,  to  a  light  phaeton 
and  held  by  two  lackeys  whose  rubber  coats  streamed 
with  water,  at  last  came  to  his  senses  and  signalled  to 
the  stable,  whence  soon  appeared  the  head  groom. 

The  Princess  was  glittering  with  drops  which  rolled 
from  her  long  cloak,  and  as  the  maid  took  it  off,  she 
laughed  with  vivacious  pleasure. 

"  "What  a  runr"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  liked  it !  A  close 
carriage  ?  Faugh  !  Xo  !  I  drove  myself  of  course.  You 
did  not  expect  me  ?  I  am  glad.  That  makes  me  one  of 
you,  not  one  of  all  the  place !  Come,  madame,  I  am 
ready.  You  do  not  mind  my  dishabille?  You  see  it 
was  sudden.  I  felt  that  this  house  was  just  at  this 
moment  the  best  spot  in  the  world,  —  I  felt  your  har 
mony,  —  so  I  rushed ! " 

Her  "  dishabille  "  was  a  long  trained  garment  of  scar 
let  brocade,  shot  through  with  great  arabesques  of  gold, 
and  flowing  back  from  a  skirt  of  black  satin.  The 
sleeves,  long  and  open  to  the  shoulder,  were  lined  with 
black,  and  her  arms  were  entirely  covered  with  the 
favorite  mitts  of  red  and  gold,  with  a  fringe  of  tassels 
from  elbow  to  wrist.  On  her  head  was  a  gauzy  cap  of 
some  embroidery  of  gold  and  scarlet  with  the  favorite 
fez-like  tassel. 


"YOU  TOO?"  193 

So  simple  yet  so  completely  apropos  to  her  odd  person 
was  her  costume,  that  despite  its  rich  beauty,  one  would 
hardly  remark  it.  Her  personality  dominated  every 
thing,  even  her  eccentric  environment. 

As  they  all  rose  to  greet  her  she  suddenly  frowned  in 
the  midst  of  her  greetings  and  murmured  to  Sybil  as 
she  passed  her,  — 

"  I  did  not  feel  you !  Strange  !  I  fancied  all  was 
well,"  and  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  an  impatient 
movement  instantly  hidden  by  some  laughing  remark. 

She  was  soon  the  centre  of  an  interested  group.  To 
Sardia,  she  had  given  the  strong  hand  pressure  of  one 
comrade  to  another,  and  she  accepted  the  large  chair  he 
wheeled  forward  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"  Your  house  has  a  chair  big  and  strong  enough  for 
me,"  she  said  to  Ralfe.  "  Xot  always  I  find  one  !  I 
strew  my  path  with  wrecks  of  that  sort !  "  and  she 
pointed  to  a  dainty,  gilt-legged  affair,  which  was  occu 
pied  by  Lulu. 

As  she  sought  the  young  girl's  face  she  suddenly 
showed  a  keen  light  in  her  eyes,  —  a  light  that  seemed 
to  pierce  the  very  soul  of  Lulu,  who  looked  back  at  her 
as  if  fascinated.  "  You  too  ?  "  said  the  Princess  under 
her  breath,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  begging  to  see  the 
foreign  photograph  which  had  almost  dropped  from 
her  hand. 

"  Ah  ! "  she  then  exclaimed,  looking  at  the  picture 
which  she  had  taken,  "  This  is  singular  !  What  a  coin 
cidence  !  It  is  the  very  town  in  which  I  was  born  ! " 

"  Madame  is  a  native  of  Valdai  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Valdai  Hills  were  the  glory  of  my  child 
hood.  But  I  was  a  child.  What  could  I  know  ?  How 
could  I  tell  that  they  lifted  themselves  from  a  soil  stained 
with  every  persecution,  every  crime,  to  which  liberty 
was  an  unknown  word  and  peace  an  unknown  blessing  ! 


194        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Over  the  Valdai  Hills  rose  a  solemn  sun  which  stung 
our  helpless  sorrows." 

"  Then  you  do  not  love  them  still,"  Lulu  said  in  pa 
thetic  surprise.  To  her,  not  to  love  the  dear  old  home 
where  she  was  born,  seemed  nothing  short  of  sacrilege. 

"Kussia  is  a  bitter  draught  to  me,"  answered  the 
princess  grimly.  "  She  was  a  cruel  mother  to  us  all. 
I  had  a  gay,  good  brother  once.  He  was  keen  of  wit 
and  brave  of  soul.  He  saw  persecution  stare  in  at  every 
window  of  his  village.  He  felt  his  free  spirit  chained, 
and  he  spoke  out.  He  has  been  long  dead.  I  saw  him 
after  he  had  worked  in  the  Siberian  mines  for  twelve 
long  years.  He  was  still  brave  of  soul.  But  not  until 
he  proved  it  to  me,  his  sister,  did  I  know  him.  Head 
a  chapter  of  horrors  from  the  history  of  the  Inquisition. 
Siberia  is  worse.  Kussia  has  many  debts  to  settle. 
But  I  escaped  her  wicked  clutches.  I  go  to  India. 
India !  I  love  it.  It  is  the  country  of  my  heart,  my 
soul.  Born  in  Kussia  of  Russian  parentage,  my  body 
may  be  claimed  as  of  that  country  ;  but  the  land  of  my 
desire,  the  home  of  my  affections  and  ambitions,  is  grand 
old  India,  ancient  of  days." 

The  sparkle,  the  enthusiasm,  of  her  mood  was  catch 
ing.  Conversation  was  for  a  moment  quite  hushed. 
The  eloquence  of  her  intense  emotion  was  felt  to 
breathe  itself  from  eye,  lip,  and  hand. 

"  Signer  Zante  will  accompany  you  when  you  go  back, 
I  understand,"  remarked  Kalfe  as  he  joined  the  group. 
"  What  an  enthusiast  he  is.  He  tells  me  that  he  is  now 
allowing  himself  but  four  hours  sleep,  and  eats  nothing 
but  bread  and  milk.  It  is  astonishing  to  see  with  what 
joy  he  looks  forward  to  being  able  to  live  upon  bread 
and  water  alone." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  princess  in  a  matter-of-course 
way.  "  We  must  all  go  through  the  discipline." 


A  TEST  195 

"But  tell  me,  what  will  this  utter  subjugation  of  the 
body  to  the  will  produce  ?  " 

"  Nothing  here  in  the  direction  he  desires.  The  West 
does  not  present  the  same  conditions  as  the  Orient. 
There,  the  very  atmosphere  is  impregnated  with  vital 
forces  unknown  to  the  dwellers  of  this  hemisphere. 
What  has  been  contemptuously  termed  Paganism  was 
and  is  ancient  wisdom,  replete  with  Deity,  and  he  who 
will,  may  become  one  with  higher  powers  before  he 
casts  off  this  mantle,"  touching  her  smooth  white  hand. 
"  Signer  Zante  aspires  to  being  an  adept,  and  if  purity 
of  life,  intensity  of  will,  self-sacrifice  of  inclination, 
patience  and  faith,  can  make  him  one,  you  will  yet  hear 
that  he  stands  amidst  the  ignorant,  humbled  and 
wronged  masses  of  India  as  another  savior.  But  I  had 
forgotten  to  say  that  he  will  join  us  this  evening, 
although  he  is  attending  a  reception  at  the  present 
moment." 

She  had  risen,  and  Lulu  with  girlish  confidence  had 
stolen  her  arm  into  her  sleeve  and  moved  along  beside 
her  to  a  distant  sofa.  "  But  what  is  an  adept  ?  "  she 
asked  curiously,  having  listened  with  awe  to  this  conver 
sation. 

"  If  you  had  told  your  lover  that  you  have  placed  his 
magnolia  where  the  very  miasma  may  blow  on  it ;  if 
you  had  shown  him  that  the  magnolia  is  already  almost 
visibly  stained,  would  you  not  have  found  in  him  a  dear 
protection  ?  Is  this  the  confidence  of  true  affection  ?  " 
She  breathed  these  words  so  softly  that  none  else  could 
hear. 

Lulu  turned  pale  to  the  very  lips.  "How  could  you 
know  ?  Who  told  you  ?  What  is  this  ?  "  she  whispered 
in  terror. 

"I  have  answered  your  question,"  said  the  princess 
soothingly,  "  and  I  hope  I  have  warned  you  at  the  same 


196        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

time.  Such  are  the  powers  of  the  human  spirit  if  one 
knows  how  to  use  them.  An  adept  knows,"  and  she 
turned  away  to  Helen  who  was  offering  a  glass  of  wine 
with  her  own  hand.  "  We  were  speaking  of  invisible 
powers,"  she  said  lightly.  "Those  powers  which  by 
most  are  seen  as  through  a  glass  darkly ;  but  which 
adepts  in  the  art  of  self-control  claim  to  see  face  to  face ; 
intuition,  clairvoyance,  for  instance." 

."Of  course  it  is  positively  useless  for  me  to  try  to 
understand  the  invisible  in  any  practical  way,"  said 
Charlie  Vane,  who  had  followed  Helen,  and  addressed  the 
princess.  "  But  this  peculiar  preparation  for  things  so 
out  of  ordinary  comprehension,  as  if  it  were  the  most 
every-day  fact,  impresses  me  profoundly.  Signor  Zante 
evidently  believes  that  after  a  certain  course  of  study 
and  self-discipline,  his  spirit  will  so  dominate  his  body 
that  he  will  become  almost  as  if  unhampered  by  it, 
and  able  to  do  those  things  which  certainly  seem  super 
natural." 

"Nothing  is  supernatural,  riot  God  himself,"  declared 
inadame. 

"It  may  be  so.  To  follow  out  idea  after  idea  in 
sequence  through  the  minds  of  opposite  races  or  nations 
has  always  been  a  singularly  agreeable  study  to  me.  It 
enlarges  the  range  of  one's  opinion  to  find  that  the  Eng 
lish,  French  and  German  conception  of  the  same  idea 
has  a  similar  basis,  but  always  deviates  in  detail.  For 
unless  people  can  understand  that  a  thing  can  be  looked 
at  from  all  sides  and  present  itself  in  different  lights, 
yet  still  remain  the  same,  true  charity  is  impossible. 
We  are  all  so  apt  to  gauge  things  by  the  way  they  look 
to  MS  /  If  we  have  been  educated  in  one  way  we  look  in 
one  way,  and  we  forget  that  some  one  else  is  looking 
from  exactly  an  opposite  standpoint.  How  grand  is  the 
knowledge  that  God  can  see  from  all  points  at  once, 


HIDDEN  WISDOM  197 

precisely  as  it  is.  Therein  lies  His  power  of  impar 
tiality." 

"I  wish  I  might  become  an  adept,"  said  Lulu,  sud 
denly  recovering  her  courage.  "I  too  would  like  to 
read  minds  and  see  things  as  they  are,"  and  she  gave  the 
Princess  Menshikoff  the  sweetest  look  of  mingled  sub 
mission  and  gratitude. 

"  Ah !  keep  your  own  sweet  wits,  that's  enough. 
There  are  queer  things  and  people  in  this  world  of  ours ! 
I  say  ours  meaningly,  for,  my  dear,  no  other  world  is 
ours  yet,  until  we  shed  '  the  vile  body,'  so  don't  you  live 
so  much  in  any  other  as  to  make  you  worry  over  or  dis 
dain  this,  as  I  have  often  been  tempted  to  do  to  my  own 
discomfort ! " 

"Is  it  possible?"  murmured  Helen,  who  looked  at 
the  form  before  her  with  an  incredulous  expression. 
For  that  form  so  seemed  to  be  the  embodiment  of  a 
reserve  strength,  a  calm,  unbiassed  will,  resistless,  self- 
poised,  eloquent  of  itself  in  every  gesture,  every  look; 
the  soul,  like  a  strong  flame,  seemed  to  so  illuminate  it 
with  hidden  wisdom,  the  overshadowing  of  something 
untranslatable  so  appeared  to  give  its  ungainly  contour 
a  commanding  grace,  that  to  hear  of  the  petty  worries 
and  discomforts  of  the  world  from  those  lips,  seemed 
utterly  incongruous.  Her  thought  may  have  betrayed 
itself  in  her  eyes,  for  madame  gently  took  her  hand  and 
pressing  it,  said  softly,  — 

"No  one  is  exempt  from  vexation,  from  suffering. 
Exalt  the  spirit  as  one  may,  earth  drags  it  back.  But 
all  the  joy  we  know  is  here.  Let  us  cling  to  it,  while 
we  grow  above  it." 

"But  how  does  this  exaltation  of  the  will,  which 
Signor  Zante  is  trying  to  gain,  set  towards  our  submis 
sion  to  God  ?  In  so  perfecting  the  action  of  the  human 
will,  would  not  one  forget  the  compliance  of  the  prayer, 


198  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

'  Thy  will  be  done '  ?  "  earnestly  asked  Charlie  Vane,  still 
pursuing  the  train  of  his  thought. 

The  princess  turned  to  him  sympathetically,  "I  do 
not  think  of  God  as  a  personality,"  said  she,  with  a 
smile,  "  although  it  is  easier  to  speak  of  Him  as  such. 
But  certainly  an  adept  could  in  no  wise  be  in  opposition 
to  Him.  I  have  found  it  to  be  an  absolutely  practical 
truth  that,  if  we  are  willing,  God  can  do  a  great  deal 
for  us.  But  He  is  too  honorable  to  rule  our  wills.  He 
gives  us  our  freedom.  We  are  not  slaves,  but  children. 
If  we  are  not  willing  to  let  Him  order  our  lives  he  does 
not  compel  us  to  do  so  ;  but  if  in  faith  and  love  we  ask 
Him  to  take  charge  of  us,  will  and  all,  we  begin  to  be  in 
instantaneous  harmony  with  His  designs,  rather  than  in 
direct  opposition ;  and  thus  we  gain  all  the  advantages 
of  His  power,  instead  of  kicking  against  the  inevitable. 
With  God  we  have  the  backing  and  helping  of  every 
force  in  nature,  visible  and  invisible.  In  our  own  way 
we  may  'hit  it  right,'  as  you  Americans  say,  or  we  may 
not ;  and  certainly  if  we  do  not,  our  puny  powers  must 
inevitably  be  thwarted  by  the  carrying  on  of  that  eter 
nal  process,  which  tends  unchangeably  towards  the  great 
est  good. 

"  As  in  an  orchestra,  those  who  tune  their  instruments 
to  the  right  key  and  follow  the  leader  explicitly,  make  a 
grand  harmony  of  music,  and  find  themselves  on  the 
wave  of  beauty  lifted  to  a  perfect  success ;  so  we  may 
enter  into  the  general  choir  and  be  one  with  the  power, 
the  grace,  the  victory  of  the  Divine  intention  ;  or  we  may 
choose  to  flat  the  key,  play  according  to  our  own  ideas 
of  time,  plan  that  a  bar  shall  end  there  and  a  new  pas 
sage  begin  here,  and  find  ourselves  at  last,  hopelessly 
out  of  the  work,  a  discord  to  others,  and  a  failure  to 
ourselves.  An  adept  seeks  continually  to  keep  himself 
closely  within  the  limits  of  God's  design,  as  then  he 


JUSTICE  SEEMS  BLIND  199 

attracts  to  himself  all  the  ministering  agents  of  the  uni 
verse,  spiritual  or  material." 

"  Then  he  must  inevitably  be  true,  pure,  and  good  ?  " 

"  Or  he  will  fail,"  said  madame. 

"  One  would  think  you  were  a  Christian  instead  of  a 
Buddhist,"  said  Guy,  coining  forward  and  laughingly 
taking  her  empty  glass. 

"  I  am  a  Universalist,"  said  she,  but  seeing  their  looks 
of  surprise,  she  added,  "  Am  I  wrong  ?  Do  I  not  mean 
what  you  mean  ?  My  creed  is  short  at  any  rate,  it  is 
this :  Let  Love  and  Wisdom  uplift  the  whole  world  for 
ever  unto  Perfection.  I  care  not  who  teaches  that,  or 
what  race  claims  the  idea ;  I  know  my  soul  responds  to 
it,  and  I  mean  to  do  my  part." 

At  this  moment  Signor  Zante  entered,  his  usually  pale 
cheeks  a  little  flushed  with  the  wind  and  rain.  He  was 
soon  comfortably  ensconced  beside  his  hostess,  for  whom 
he  had  instantly  shown  a  preference.  His  venerable 
locks  of  silver,  under  which  the  dark,  kind  eyes  glowed 
pleasantly,  crowned  his  massive  head  with  a  wintry 
beauty,  as  if  age  had  brought  her  season  in  a  loving 
mood. 

The  conversation  drifted  on  through  ordinary  common 
places  until  some  one  made  the  quotation  : 

"  Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly 
Yet  they  grind  exceeding  small," 

and  Signor  Zante  looked  up  to  say,  "  That  is  doubtless 
true,  but  sometimes  Justice  seems  blind  indeed.  I 
heard  something  to-day  which  interested  me  very  much 
as  an  instance  of  the  varied  vicissitudes  of  human  des 
tiny.  Some  years  ago,  I  knew  in  a  casual  way,  a  young 
man  who  was  at  the  time  one  of  the  '  bloods '  of  Paris.  He 
had  a  romantic  history  behind  him  of  travel,  adventure 
and  fast  living,  which,  in  a  way,  captivated  the  imagina- 


200  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

tion  of  his  companions.  He  had  the  graces  but  not  the 
morals  of  a  gentleman,  and  he  managed  to  carry  himself 
into  very  good  society,  although  he  had  no  visible 
means  of  support.  The  fact  is  that  while  he  kept  up 
an  appearance  of  considerable  wealth,  but  few  knew 
his  real  position,  which  financially  was  most  of  the  time 
very  precarious,  and  not  many  dreamed  that  he  lived 
by  his  wits  in  a  very  crooked  way,  which  often  put  him 
to  various  straits  out  of  which  he  made  most  narrow 
escapes.  But  certainly  I  found  that  he  allied  to  an  abso 
lute  lack  of  scrupulous  feeling,  an  instinctive  ambition, 
and  he  concealed  with  diplomatic  art,  what  perhaps  were 
not  absolutely  crimes,  but  certainly  nothing  of  which  to  be 
proud.  I  remember  I  often  regretted  that  he  existed,  as  I 
knew  only  too  well  how  dangerous  he  must  be  to  others, 
for  withal,  he  had  a  singularly  fascinating  manner  and 
handsome  face. 

"  He  of  course,  passed  entirely  out  of  my  memory  until 
I  was  reminded  of  him  to-day  by  the  unexpected  mention 
of  his  name  and  what  has  recently  occurred  to  him.  It 
seems  that  but  a  short  time  ago  he  was  actually  reduced 
to  poverty  in  London,  and  also  very  ill,  when  a  man 
hired  for  the  estate,  and  who  is  a  professional  detective, 
discovered  him  and  announced  that  he  had  long  been 
sought  for  as  the  heir  to  an  immense  property.  My 
friend  briefly  narrated  the  circumstances  to  me  of  what 
I  consider  a  decidedly  romantic  affair. 

"  It  seems  that  this  young  man  had,  in  his  early  youth, 
committed  some  breach  of  honor  which  so  affected  his 
family,  that  his  parents  actually  left  their  Italian  home 
and  hid  their  shame  in  a  foreign  land.  Precocious, 
headstrong,  and  proud,  this  son  had  left  the  home  of  his 
birth,  cursing  the  father  and  mother,  whose  unstained 
name  he  had  disgraced  and  whose  pardon  he  rejected, 
and  as  years  went  on  and  he  never  made  himself  known 


A  RELATIVE  201 

to  them,  they  deemed  him  forever  alien  or  dead.  On 
arriving  in  America  they  banished  his  name  from  their 
lips,  every  token  of  his  existence  from  their  home,  and 
as  it  appeared,  every  vestige  of  remembrance  of  him 
from  their  hearts,  for  no  one  here  ever  dreamed  that 
they  had  a  son  until  their  will  was  made  known  privately 
to  their  lawyers.  But  in  this,  title,  race,  name,  blood, 
parental  love  conquered,  and  they  gave  him  the  larger 
portion  of  their  fortune,  provided  he  appeared  in  person 
to  claim  it  in  the  course  of  five  years." 

He  paused  to  whisk  a  spark  from  his  coat,  and  some 
one  curiously  asked,  "  And  what  was  to  become  of  it  if 
they  did  not  find  him  ?  " 

"  It  was  to  go  to  the  daughter,  much  younger  than  he. 
One  of  the  executors  of  the  will  is  an  old  friend  of  mine 
and  happened  to  tell  me  the  story.  The  limit  of  time  is 
nearly  up.  I  believe  the  date  is  the  twenty -third  of  this 
month.  Of  course  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  heir  will 
appear.  He  has  been  legally  notified." 

"  No  doubt  at  all,"  said  Guy  cynically. 

"Well,"  pursued  Signer  Zante,  "it  seems  that  in  re 
nouncing  them,  this  heartless  young  fellow  really  gave 
up  his  parents  forever,  and  leading  the  life  of  a  reckless 
roue,  had  no  idea  that  across  the  sea  was  accumulating 
for  him  a  sum  of  money,  which  doubtless  would  have 
attracted  his  keenest  attention  had  he  known  of  it.  But 
so  it  was,  and  I  am  informed  that  he  seemed  as  if  stunned 
when  he  heard  of  it.  What  made  it  of  especial  interest 
to  me  was  that  I  presume  he  must  be  some  distant 
relative  of  yours,  Miss  Visonti,  although  if  it  prove  so  I 
wish  I  might  have  given  him  a  pleasanter  record." 

"  A  relative  of  mine  ?  "  said  Sybil  in  a  languid  way, 
turning  a  proud  glance  on  him,  "  I  fancy  that  is  not 
probable.  The  Visonti  family  were  few.  My  father,  I 
have  always  heard,  was  the  last  male  descendant,  and  I 


202  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOYE 

am  the  only  representative  of  our  race.  What  was  the 
person's  name  ?  " 

"  It  was  Julian  Savelli,  —  or  rather  "  — 

But  Miss  Visonti  had  half  arisen  from  her  seat  and 
was  looking  at  him  with  a  gaze  in  which  wonder  and 
delight  were  blended.  "  Julian  Savelli !  "  she  repeated, 
with  so  subtle  a  mixture  of  emotions  in  her  voice  that 
when  she  sank  back  in  her  chair,  as  she  did  almost 
instantly,  she  seemed  to  have  taken  on  a  new  sense  of 
power  For  her  mind  had  caught  like  lightning  the  pos 
sibilities  in  store  for  her. 

"  I  meant  to  say,"  said  he  quietly,  "  that  Julian  Savelli 
was  the  assumed  name  under  which  he  had  hidden  his 
identity.  His  real  name  was  Visonti." 

"Strange,"  murmured  Sybil,  abashed  at  this  disclo 
sure,  which  assured  her  that  he  must  indeed  be  some 
relative  of  whom  she  had  never  dreamed.  "  I  suppose 
there  must  have  been  another  branch  of  our  house.  And 
his  parents  came  to  America  ?  It  is  incredible !  We 
must  have  heard  of  them.  Pray  what  and  who  were 
these  Visontis  ?  " 

While  speaking  these  words,  a  dim  intuition  began  to 
grow  into  a  vague  reality  in  her  mind.  It  seemed  as  if  a 
cold  hand  was  slyly  and  softly  being  clutched  about  her 
throat.  The  firelight  grew  nothing  but  a  dim  glow,  and 
the  silence  between  her  own  slow  words  seemed  to  throb 
in  her  ears  with  a  dull  hot  thrill. 

"  I  anticipated  that  you  would  ask  me  that  question, 
my  dear  young  lady,  and  so  I  made  sure  of  answering 
it,"  replied  Signor  Zante,  and  smiling  at  his  own  sagacity, 
he  drew  a  note-book  from  his  pocket  and  leisurely 
began  to  look  through  its  leaves. 

To  Sybil  the  suspense  of  every  second  seemed  a  crisis, 
and  the  answer  which  the  old  gentleman  finally  read  with 
considerable  decision  seemed  to  beat  like  separate  strokes 
upon  her  brain. 


MY  BROTHER!  203 

"  Their  names  were  Juliet  and  Baptiste." 

Sybil  sprang  from  her  chair  and  looked  wildly  and 
piteously  around. 

Death  seemed  to  wring  her  heart.  "  My  father  and 
mother  ! "  she  gasped,  clasping  her  hands  towards  him 
as  if  for  mercy.  "Then  Julian  Savelli, —  Visonti  —  is 
my  " 

"Yes.  If  they  were  your  parents,  I  suppose  they 
were  also  his.  I  fear  —  I  did  not  dream  —  oh,  forgive 
me  !  How  could  I  know  that  he  was  your  brother  ?  " 

She  leaned  against  Helen,  who  had  quickly  gained  her 
side,  and  now  with  warmest  compassion  and  sympathy, 
supported  her  with  a  strong,  tender  arm. 

"  Do  not  be  so  shaken,  dear,"  she  said  gently.  "  Be 
brave.  Surely  this  may  be  a  blessing  in  disguise.  He 
may  have  been  wild  for  the  very  lack  of  a  sister's  influ 
ence,  a  home  and  parental  love.  No  Visonti  can  go  very 
wrong.  A  noble  work  is  given  you  in  this  discovery." 

But  Sybil  looked  from  earth  to  heaven,  from  heaven 
to  hell,  in  the  depths  of  her  soul  and  found  no  comfort. 
Clanging  through  her  brain  like  harsh  bells  crashing  out 
an  alarm,  rang  the  terrible  words  over  and  over  again  : 

"  He  was  my  brother,  my  brother,  and  he  knew  ! " 


204  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   TRAIL    OF    THE   SERPENT. 

"She  moved 
Like  Proserpine  in  Enna,  gathering  flowers." 

Tennyson. 

"  The  palpable  obscure." 

Paradise  Lost. 

HELEN  was  walking  in  her  garden.  It  was  a  morning 
full  of  the  glow  of  early  autumn.  Every  blossom,  every 
shrub,  the  velvet  grass,  sparkled  with  drops  of  dew.  At 
intervals,  stretched  like  fairy  canopies  from  twig  to  twig? 
were  gauzy  cobwebs  studded  with  opals  and  pearls,  while 
underneath  some  broad  green  leaf  hid  the  cricket,  who 
crustily  gave  good-morrow  to  the  rasping  grasshopper. 
Nature  was  full  of  busy  sounds.  Overhead  birds  twit 
tered  and  called,  while  in  a  soft,  muffled  rumble,  the 
sea  beat  its  giant  drums  along  the  shore.  A  mist  had 
enveloped  the  dawn  as  with  a  veil,  loath  to  yield  up 
its  beauty  to  the  sun,  but  now  day  stood  blushing  and 
radiant  in  the  light  of  his  smile. 

And  Helen  walked  in  her  garden  ! 

Petrarch,  in  those  old  days  when  his  soul  was  ever 
pierced  with  tender  woe,  wrote  of  his  lovely  Laura,  — 

"  As  o'er  the  fresh  grass  her  fair  form  is  sweet, 
And  graceful  passage  makes  at  morning  hours, 
Seems  as  around  the  newly  awakened  flowers 
Found  virtue  issue  from  her  delicate  feet." 


A  PURE   ATMOSPHERE  205 

And  when  Helen  gently  moved  from  rose  bloom  to 
rose  bloom,  culling  a  bouquet  of  velvet  blossoms,  her 
beauty  seemed  to  give  the  lawn  a  newer  loveliness,  and 
leave  behind  her  as  she  went,  a  brighter  charm. 

There  are  some  natures  so  clear,  so  pure,  so  crystalline, 
that  one  may  only  liken  them  to  a  mountain  brook,  a 
stream  full  of  joyous  vitality,  cool,  sweet  and  health- 
giving  to  all  who  touch  it. 

Such  was  the  soul  of  Helen,  and  her  fair  body  with 
its  chaste  outlines,  her  skin  white  and  spotless,  her 
deep,  deep  eyes  filled  with  the  light  of  noble  thought, 
made  an  atmosphere  about  her  which  was  curative  to 
others,  physically  and  morally.  In  her  presence  only 
good  ideas  seemed  to  arise  in  the  mind.  Anything  low 
shrank  back  aghast.  Only  the  most  evil  nature  could 
pursue  its  ends  unchecked  when  in  contact  with  her 
genuine  and  generous  spirit.  Unconsciously  she  laid 
her  hand  of  healing  even  on  the  vilest,  and  uplifted 
such,  at  least  for  a  moment,  into  a  better  sphere. 

Now,  for  the  first  time  quite  alone  in  the  great  plateau 
surrounding  the  house,  her  guests  having  all  gone  out 
to  enjoy  an  especial  entertainment  given  on  board  a 
Russian  man-of-war,  she  from  preference  had  remained 
at  home  to  enjoy  a  day  of  rare  solitude,  in  the  midst 
of  so  gay  a  season.  She  breathed  in,  with  unusual 
vivacity  the  fresh  breeze,  and  lingered  beside  the  hedge 
rows,  plucking  a  dead  leaf  here  or  straightening  a 
crooked  vine,  forgetful  of  all  save  the  singular  delight 
of  being  once  more  alone. 

Slowly  approaching  the  great  gates  that  opened  on 
the  avenue,  she  was  surprised  to  see  a  woman  come 
through  them,  and  run  rapidly  towards  her,  holding  by 
the  hand  a  little  child  who  was  almost  lifted  off  the 
ground  by  the  speed  with  which  they  came.  She  ran 
straight  to  Helen,  and  panting  with  fatigue  and  evident 


206  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

fright  gave  a  cautious  glance  behind  her  and  exclaimed 
in  French,  — 

"  Oh,  madame !  Is  this  right  ?  Is  this  where  Madame 
Visonti  is  staying  ?  " 

"Madame  Visonti ? "  exclaimed  Helen,  "why !  Madame 
Visonti  is  dead.  She  did  not  live  here.  She  died  in 
New  York." 

The  woman  lost  every  particle  of  color  and  sank  to 
the  ground. 

"  Madame  Visonti  dead  ?  Oh,  my  God,  what  shall 
I  do  ?  Oh,  madame,  at  least  }*ou  knew  her.  Save  me, 
I  beg.  Hide  me !  I  am  pursued.  I  have  been  pursued 
by  a  man  who  is  bound  to  steal  this  child.  Will  you 
not  hide  me  in  your  house  a  little  while  ?  " 

She  almost  knelt  as  she  clasped  her  hands  and  im 
plored  with  her  streaming  eyes.  Helen  was  struck  by 
her  evident  despair.  Her  French  was  provincial,  yet 
touched  with  an  accent  of  refinement.  The  child  was 
seemingly  weary  and  miserable.  She  instantly  said, 
"Follow  me,"  and  walked  rapidly  to  the  house.  For 
some  reason  undefined  to  herself,  she  led  the  way  to  her 
own  apartments,  and  giving  the  woman  a  seat,  stood 
patiently  waiting  until  she  could  recover  her  breath 
and  senses. 

"You  knew  madame  Visonti?"  she  then  queried. 

"  Ah,  yes,  madame !  I  dreamed  not  that  she  was 
dead.  Alas  !  when,  when  did  she  die  ?  " 

"  Why,  she  died  four  or  five  years  ago,  my  good 
woman,"  said  Helen. 

The  creature  started  up  with  joy  and  cried  rapturously, 
"  Then  she  is  alive,  she  is  alive  !  for  I  heard  from  her 
only  a  few  weeks  ago,  —  I  saw  her  only  a  few  months 
back.  I  was  directed  here  to  see  her.  She  told  me  if 
I  were  ever  absolutely  obliged  to  telegraph  her,  I  must 
send  it  in  care  of  Madame  Fielding." 


THE  PURSUIT  207 

"  You  mean  Miss  Visonti,"  said  Helen.  "  I  supposed 
you  meant  her  mother,  the  old  lady." 

"  She  is  not  an  old  lady,"  said  the  woman  staring ; 
"  she  is  young,  beautiful,  dark  as  night,  and  wonderful 
in  style, — a  Parisian,  madame,  Sybil  Visonti." 

Helen  was  perplexed  and  annoyed.  She  spoke 
sharply. 

"'Then  why  do  you  call  her  madame  ?  I  tell  you  she 
is  unmarried  and  a  Miss,  not  a  Mrs." 

As  if  to  convince  without  another  word,  with  an 
expressive  gesture  the  woman  thrust  the  little  boy 
forward,  and  pulling  off  his  velvet  cap  said  decidedly, 
"  This  is  her  child." 

"What!" 

"  This  is  her  child,"  said  the  Frenchwoman  doggedly, 
"  and  it  is  to  her  that  I  have  brought  him.  Although  he 
bears  my  name,  I  know  his  true  one,  and  as  I  was  com 
pelled  to  use  it,  have  done  so." 

Helen  felt  faint.  She  poured  out  a  little  glass  of 
wine  and  drank  it,  then,  reminded  of  her  guest,  gave 
her  some  also,  courteously  begging  pardon.  For  a  few 
moments. not  a  word  was  uttered.  Helen  felt  incapable 
of  putting  her  thoughts  into  language.  At  last  however 
she  questioned,  — 

"  Who  is  pursuing  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  madame.  Since  Madame  Visonti 
sent  the  last  money  to  me,  a  man  came  to  our  village 
and  began  to  ask  my  neighbors  about  me  and  the  child. 
He  then  called  on  me  and  tried  to  induce  me  to  sell  my 
darling  to  him.  I  finally  became  so  afraid  of  him  that 
my  little  boy  never  went  out  of  the  house  save  with  me. 
One  day  I  left  him  for  not  more  than  ten  minutes,  and 
when  I  came  in  I  found  the  stranger  about  to  take  him 
from  the  crib.  I  called  for  help,  and  the  fellow  walked 
off;  but  then  I  dared  not  stay  any  longer.  I  had 


208  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

pledged  my  life  to  take  good  care  of  the  child.  I  ran 
away.  I  went  to  Paris,  I  went  to  Liverpool,  I  came 
to  America,  I  am  here.  He,  also,  he  too  came.  He  soon 
traced  and  followed  me.  He  was  on  the  same  steamer, 
he  haunted  me  in. New  York,  he  took  the  same  train, 
he  too  is  here !  I  am  afraid  he  is  at  the  very  door. 
Ah,  what  I  suffer  !  " 

It  was  French,  it  was  dramatic,  almost  tragic,  but 
it  was  genuine  excitement,  it  was  real. 

"Tell  me  about  yourself,"  said  Helen  calming  her. 
"Tell  me  all  about  Madame  Visonti.  How  do  you 
know  this  is  her  child  ?  " 

"  I  was  her  nurse,"  said  the  woman  simply ;  "  I  was 
with  the  little  darling  when  he  was  born,"  taking  him 
on  her  lap  and  soothing  his  cries  which  had  now  become 
rather  alarming.  "Yes,  pet,  nursey  will  find  him  his 
breakfast.  We  have  not  breakfasted,"  she  said  humbly 
to  Helen.  "  We  went  from  the  train  to  a  hotel,  and  I 
was  sure  I  saw  not  the  man  who  pursued,  but  the 
moment  we  were  about  to  go  to  a  room  we  heard  the 
dreadful  voice  in  the  lower  hall.  I  caught  the  child 
and  ran  down  a  back  passage  and  so  on,  on,  until  I 
reached  you." 

"You  shall  have  breakfast  immediately.  But  how 
do  you  come  to  have  Madame  Visonti's  child  ?  " 

"  Why,  madame,  she  left  him  with  me  in  the  country 
in  my  little  home  to  stay  until  he  could  go  to  school. 
I  was  his  nurse,  I  was  faithful,  I  was  a  widow  ;  I  had 
lost  a  little  one,  and  I  was  poor." 

"  Ah,  I  see.  She  was  a  great  lady  in  society  and  did 
not  wish  the  care  of  her  baby,  so  she  left  him  with  you, 
for  the  country  air  and  milk.  Many  French  ladies  do 
that,  I  fancy.  We  seldom  do  so  here.  Is  she  a  kind 
mistress  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  madame,  she  is  generous,  liberal,  too  liberal 


MONSIEUR  VISONTI  209 

to  me,  and  she  lavishes  riches  on  the  little  one's  cloth 
ing, —  ah,  the  neighbors  smile  when  he  is  called  Dantin! 
But  I  had  enough  to  make  this  sudden  journey  and  even 
more." 

Helen  had  a  sense  of  being  in  a  fantastic  dream. 
Was  this  woman  honestly  stupid  or  excessively  cunning, 
or  was  there  really  nothing  to  conceal  ?  A  feeling  of 
strangeness  with  all  earthly  things  stole  over  her  brain 
as  she  looked  at  these  two  beings  so  strangely  appealing 
to  her  sympathy. 

"  Where  is  Monsieur  Visonti  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  woman  mysteriously. 
"  I  never  saw  him.  He  is  never  mentioned,  and  I  am 
never  to  say  the  word  '  Papa  '  in  the  boy's  presence  "  — 
whispering.  "But  I  believe  he  was  a  wicked,  cruel 
man,  and  that  is  why  Madame  Visonti  conceals  her 
name.  I  believe  he  lives,  and  I  have  thought  it  might 
be  he  who  follows.  But  may  I  not  see  my  mistress  ? 
Cannot  I  present  her  with  her  child  ?  Every  moment 
is  agony  to  me  while  I  still  keep  him.  What  if  that 
man  is  in  the  house  now  ?  Take  me  to  her,  I  beg,  I 
must  see  her !"  and  again  she  looked  about  with  evident 
dread.  Helen  took  her  into  an  inner  room  and  showed 
her  that  it  had  no  outlet  save  into  her  own  chamber. 

"  Have  no  fear.  No  stranger  can  enter  here.  Madame 
Visonti  is  away  for  several  hours,  but  she  will  be  at 
home  before  night.  You  shall  see  her  immediately 
she  returns.  The  child  will  be  perfectly  safe  here  with 
you,  and  we  will  keep  him  in  this  little  room,  locked  in. 
But  no,  perhaps  it  will  be  best  to  serve  your  breakfast 
in  my  sitting-room,  and  I  will  take  care  of  him  myself. 
You  will  both  be  more  comfortable.  Say  nothing  to 
the  maid  who  serves  you.  When  you  have  finished, 
come  back  here  to  us."  She  rang  the  bell,  and  the 
woman  now  almost  fell  on  her  knees  again  for  gratitude. 


210  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

The  little  boy  had  watched  Helen  with  childish  ad 
miration,  murmuring  to  himself  in  his  baby  French,  and 
now  when  she  took  him  on  her  lap,  smoothed  his  curls 
and  spoke  gently  to  him  in  the  same  language,  he 
chattered  like  a  little  magpie,  and  calling  for  his  break 
fast  in  an  imperial  manner,  ordered  his  weary  nurse 
to  bring  his  milk. 

The  maid  appeared,  but  not  until  Helen  had  taken 
the  child  into  her  dressing-room  and  left  him  to  amuse 
himself  with  a  pretty  toy. 

Giving  her  orders,  she  soon  stood  alone,  looking  in 
a  dazed  way  out  on  to  the  lawn,  where  half  an  hour 
before  she  had  been  so  happy.  There  was  the  same  gay 
sunlight,  the  same  freshness  of  the  morning. 

"But  the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  them  all,"  she 
murmured.  "  Sybil  disgraced  !  "  she  kept  thinking  over 
and  over.  "Sybil  capable  of  concealing  such  a  secret 
as  this  ?  Living  the  frivolous  life  of  a  woman  of  fash 
ion,  with  this  child  in  the  background,  its  father  unac 
knowledged,  its  very  name  a  lie.  Sybil  passing  for  a 
maiden,  when  she  must  be  either  a  married  or  unmarried 
mother !  What  a  ghastly  thing  in  one  way  or  another 
her  past  must  be !  And  yet  with  what  cool  bravado  she 
comes  here  to  mingle  with  our  pleasures  as  of  old !  Oh, 
it  must  be  that  she  has  contracted  a  secret  marriage. 
Duped  by  some  villain,  and  discovering  her  mistake,  she 
has  fled  from  his  cruelties,  hidden  her  child,  and  saved 
herself  by  —  but  she  keeps  her  maiden  name !  There  is 
no  concealment  in  that !  I  am  confused.  What  can  I 
think  ?  This  woman  seems  to  believe  every  thing  is 
correct.  She  speaks  freely,  as  if  she  had  received  no 
lessons,  —  what  can  I  believe  ?  What  can  any  one  think 
of  this  ?  " 

She  was  not  allowed  to  think.  An  imperious  little 
hand  rattled  the  knob  of  the  dressing-room  door,  and  as 


A   BEAUTIFUL  CHILD  211 

it  did  not  yield,  as  lordly  a  little  foot  hit  it  a  smart 
kick.  Then  a  scream,  "  It  pricks,  it  pricks,  the  horrid 
rose ! "  and  opening  the  door  she  found  the  baby  boy 
stamping  angrily  upon  the  cluster  of  roses,  which  she 
had  gathered,  and  holding  out  a  tiny  thumb,  on  which  a 
little  bead  of  blood  stood  out.  She  caught  him  up  and 
comforted  him,  in  spite  of  her  half -aversion,  for  she  loved 
children,  and  he  was  beautiful. 

Beautiful !  He  was  a  dream  of  beauty.  His  head 
was  a  mass  of  tangled  curls,  golden  as  the  sun ;  his  eyes 
and  brows  were  dark,  glorious  eyes,  flashing  and  gloom 
ing,  —  oh,  so  much  like  Sybil's.  His  features  and  form, 
strong,  healthy,  and  remarkably  developed  for  three  years, 
his  scarlet  lips  so  curved  and  pouting, — he  might  have 
made  a  delicious  model  for  a  Cupid,  and  already  bewitch 
ing  in  his  baby  wrath,  his  sudden  smile  full  of  angelic 
sweetness  captivated  her  heart. 

"  Whoever  you  are,  I  shall  surely  love  you,"  she  mur 
mured,  and  was  glad  to  think  again,  "  Whoever  you  are, 
you  are  a  child,  an  innocent  little  child." 


212  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AN   ACCOMPLISHED    ACTRESS. 

"  But  all  was  false  and  hollow;  though  the  tongue 
Dropped  manna,  and  could  make  the  worse  appear 
The  better  reason,  to  perplex,  and  dash 
Maturest  counsels." 

Paradise  Lost. 

THE  day  seemed  to  pass  very  slowly.  The  woman  and 
her  charge  were  quietly  waiting  in  the  little  dressing- 
room,  which  Helen  had  taken  the  precaution  to  lock. 
No  one  had  seen  them  that  she  could  discover,  and  in 
view  of  future  possibilities  she  believed  it  wiser  that 
they  should  remain  concealed.  How  the  hours  dragged. 
The  house  seemed  so  still,  so  ominously  still.  The  in 
tense  heat  of  the  summer  noon,  tempered  by  only  the 
lightest  breath  from  the  sea,  was  full  of  weariness  to  her, 
yet  she  could  not  sleep,  and  vainly  tried  to  read  or  write. 

This  strange  presence  in  her  home,  of  so  doubtful  a 
mystery,  seemed  to  cast  a  shadow  wherever  she  moved. 
She  wished  to  attain  justness  and  clearness  of  thought, 
but  sire  was  baffled  by  her  own  determination.  Her 
mind  seemed  full  to  running  over  with  past,  present  and 
future.  It  seemed  impossible  to  grasp  the  dominant 
meaning  of  all  the  incidents  connected  with  Sybil. 

This  indecision  was  the  outgrowth  of  a  fine  trait. 
She  was  invariably  slow  to  believe  evil.  She  was  also 
invariably  quick  to  forgive,  and  with  her,  forgiveness 
was  no  half-hearted  work.  Ifc  was  positive,  unlimited, 
unfeigned.  She  forgave,  and  she  forgot.  That  was  the 


NO  HONOR!  213 

end  of  it.  And  now,  brought  face  to  face  with  a  new 
and  terrible  deception,  in  spite  of  herself  all  past  decep 
tions  ranged  themselves  before  her  memory  and  against 
her  will,  thrust  themselves  prominently  into  view. 
Every  trifling  vanity,  every  little  trick,  every  "  white  lie," 
and  every  black  one ;  the  sly  and  ingenious  excuses,  the 
selfish  acceptance  of  undue  favors,  the  bold  requests, 
the  flattering  hypocrisy,  the  painful  lack  of  honor !  — 
honor !  —  that  was  the  word  !  No  honor,  in  great  things 
or  small.  No  honor  in  speech  or  act,  —  always  self,  self 
at  the  end  of  all  doing,  at  the  bottom  of  all  planning, 
at  the  top  of  all  being  ! 

Helen  felt  sick  to  the  very  soul.  "  Oh,  how  hard  it  is 
to  be  honest  with  one's  self,  to  be  true  to  others,"  she 
murmured.  For  in  her  heart  was  welling  up  a  mighty 
disgust  for  this  woman,  whom  she  had  fondly  and  truly 
loved.  Even  the  episode  of  the  ring  had  not  made  so 
deep  an  impression  on  her  mind  as  to  obliterate  this  af 
fection.  Like  Ralfe,  she  had  thought,  "  Sybil  could 
never  have  intended  to  let  the  stones  remain  changed. 
She  had  a  very  sudden  and  pressing  need  for  money,  no 
doubt ;  and  either  was  too  proud  to  ask  it,  or  was  held 
in  the  bondage  of  some  secret."  Now  it  became  plain 
to  Helen  what  that  secret  was.  By  the  light  of  this 
event  she  understood  the  other.  "  It  was  for  her  child," 
she  thought.  "  Poor  mother !  it  was  for  her  child."  And 
in  connection  with  that  ring  remained  the  sweet,  the  un 
speakably  sweet  remembrance  of  "Ralfe's  gratitude,  which 
inevitably  counteracted  at  the  time,  and  even  now,  any 
contempt  or  bitterness  she  may  have  felt. 

But  here  was  a  culmination  of  unfriendship.  Whether 
married  or  unmarried,  the  assumption  of  her  old  posi 
tion  in  society,  the  coming  audaciously  to  her  friend's 
arms  with  all  the  apparent  innocence  of  past  years,  the 
entering  into  every  gayety,  the  light  flirtations,  follies, 


214  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

and  indiscretions  which  had  marked  her  whole  stay, 
seemed  so  utterly  devoid  of  true  womanliness,  so  bereft 
of  the  ordinary  modesties  of  a  pure  heart,  that  Helen 
grew  gravely  and  thoughtfully  cold  and  resolved,  as  the 
hours  went  on.  The  more  she  considered,  the  more  she 
could  not  believe  Sybil  to  be  a  married  woman.  Yet  she 
compelled  herself  to  reserve  her  judgment.  "I  must 
not  presuppose  anything.  If  I  were  in  the  same  posi 
tion,  I  should  require  absolute  faith  from  a  friend  until 
the  friend  knew  the  truth.  But  how  shall  I  get  at  the 
truth  ?  She  lies  so  easily  ! "  and  Helen  blushed.  It 
seemed  so  low  to  her,  so  cowardly,  to  lie. 

Strange  to  say,  she  did  not  once  think  of  Ralfe  in  this 
connection.  She  did  not  analyze  the  effect  upon  him  of 
this  sudden  relationship.  The  fact  of  his  existence 
seemed  to  have  gone  from  her.  The  first  thought  of 
most  women  under  the  circumstances  would  have  been 
one  of  exultation,  for  in  any  case,  such  a  revelation 
would  effect  a  great  change  in  the  feelings  of  any  man. 
But  Helen  was  too  direct.  As  yet,  this  secret  was  not 
hers,  and  it  might  so  turn  out  that  it  would  never  be 
made  known  to  any  but  herself.  She  simply  studied 
the  bare  facts  of  the  case.  What  might  come  of  them 
she  left  to  the  future.  Her  mind  was  eminently  judicial. 
But  she  was  nervous,  excited  and  almost  irritable.  She 
longed  to  have  it  over. 

At  last  the  welcome  wheels  came  rolling  up  the  avenue. 
Gay  voices  and  low  laughter  came  stealing  to  her  win 
dow.  Light  feet  ran  up-stairs,  doors  were  opened  and 
shut,  she  heard  her  name  spoken  in  pleasant  accents. 
But  a  sudden  lethargy  seemed  to  have  stolen  over  her 
limbs,  she  felt  as  if  carved  of  stone.  She  tried  to  deter 
mine  whether  she  should  go  to  Sybil,  or  if  Sybil  would 
come  to  her  before  dressing  for  dinner,  as  she  nearly 
always  did.  She  sat  with  a  face  gray  with  suspense,  — 
waiting  and  waiting. 


THE  LIE  215 

Sybil  came.  She  knocked  lightly,  called  out,  "  Helen 
darling,  are  you  awake  ?  "  softly  opened  the  door,  and 
seeing  her  sitting  there,  rushed  in  with  her  deep,  melo 
dious  laugh,  and  cried,  "  Dressed  already  ?  Oh,  why 
didn't  you  come  with  us  ?  It  was  the  best  affair  of 
the  season.  You  have  no  idea,"  —  and  she  had  almost 
clasped  her  friend  in  her  arms  in  the  usual  passionate 
embrace,  when  Helen  rose  with  a  countenance  so  cold 
and  stern,  so  white  and  sad,  that  she  was  astonished,  and 
sprang  back,  stammering,  "What  —  what  has  happened? 
What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

Helen's  voice  was  very  calm  and  still.  She  spoke  as 
one  who  mechanically  repeats  a  lesson.  "  Sybil,  I  am  told 
that  in  France  you  are  called  madaine." 

Sybil  grew  equally  white.  "  Who  tells  you  so  ?  " 
she  finally  uttered. 

"I  am  told,"  went  on  Helen  in  a  measured  way,  "that 
you  are  not  only  called  madame,  but  that  you  are  called 
mother.  That  you  are  a  mother." 

Sybil  had  a  little  recovered  herself.  "  Who  tells  you 
so  ?  "  she  demanded  this  time  angrily. 

"  I  am  told,"  continued  Helen  as  if  no  interruption 
had  occurred,  "that  your  child  lives,  that  you  provide 
for  it,  and  that  the  father  is  never  known,  never  seen, 
never  mentioned.  Is  this  true  ?  " 

Sybil's  eyes  blazed  with  fury  and  her  cheeks  were  like 
a  flame.  "Xo !  "  she  cried.  "It  is  a  lie,  a  base,  horrible 
lie,  and  you  should  know  it.  How  dare  you  question 
me  thus,  —  you  who  have  been  my  friend  for  so  many 
years !  How  dare  you  take  advantage  of  my  absence  to 
see  the  Princess  Menshikoff,  and  listen  to  her  false, 
malicious  tongue  ?  This  is  your  purity.  This  is  your 
loyalty.  Even  you  gossip  when  you  have  a  chance.  Do 
you  not  know  a  friend  Avould  have  cast  the  lie  back  in 
her  teeth  ?  " 


216  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

"  The  Princess  Menshikoff ! "  murmured  Helen  abashed. 
"  Does  she  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

Sybil  turned  like  a  snake.  She  knew  in  an  instant 
that  she  had  made  some  fatal  mistake.  How  had  she 
betrayed  herself  ?  "  My  vile  temper  !  "  she  thought. 
But  she  braved  it  out,  and  said  sullenly,  "  About  what  ? 
She  knows  she  hates  me,  and  I  know  it  too.  Hates  me 
enough  to  murder  me." 

"It  is  singular,"  said  Helen  in  the  same  strained 
voice,  "  that  you  have  always  declared  that  she  was  an 
utter  stranger  to  you  until  you  met  her  here.  But  I  did 
not  hear  this  from  the  Princess  Menshikoff  or  from 
any  one  whom  you  have  met  at  this  place.  You  have 
had  two  callers  to-day  who  informed  me." 

"  They  lied,  and  they  knew  they  lied  when  they  said 
it.  I  do  not  care  who  they  were  or  what.  They  either 
maliciously  lied  or  were  entirely  misinformed.  Who 
were  they  ?  I  demand  to  know." 

"Then,"  said  Helen  suddenly  changing  her  manner, 
and  coming  towards  Sybil  she  gently  took  her  hands  and 
looked  with  her  truthful  eyes  straight  into  those  beau 
tiful,  wicked  orbs,  "  then  you  are  not  a  wife  ?  " 

"No." 

"  And  you  are  not  a  mother  ?  " 

"No!  so  help  me  Heaven.  Helen,  let  me  go.  You 
act  as  if  you  were  crazy." 

Helen  stepped  to  the  door  and  locked  it.  Then  she 
opened  the  dressing-room  door,  and  the  woman,  who  had 
been  impatiently  awaiting  her  summons,  rushed  out  and 
threw  herself  at  Sybil's  feet. 

"  Oh,  madame,  madame  ! "  she  cried,  "  I  have  brought 
him  safe  and  sound.  I  have  found  you,  and  I  give  him 
to  you  safe  and  happy." 

For  one  instant  Sybil  wavered,  then  her  stupendous 
will  forced  her  to  be  calm.  She  haughtily  drew  herself 


THE  MOTHER  217 

up,  and  looking  scornfully  at  Helen,  said,  "What  kind 
of  dramatics  are  these  ?  Are  you  rehearsing  for  a  play  ? 
Who  is  this  woman  ?  What  is  she  doing  here  ?  " 

The  woman  clung  to  her  dress.  *'  I  am  Dantin,  Dan- 
tin  !"  she  exclaimed  in  French.  "Do  you  not  know 
me,  dear  Madame  Sybil  ?  I  could  not  let  you  know.  1 
was  pursued.  A  man  tried  to  steal  the  child.  I  ran 
away.  Oh,  God !  I  have  suffered  such  fear." 

"What  child?"  asked  Sybil  still  haughtily,  and 
drawing  herself  away.  "Woman,  I  do  not  know  you, 
and  never  heard  of  you  or  your  child.  What  an  impos 
tor  you  are  !  What  do  you  want  here  ?  " 

"  0  Heaven ! "  said  Dantin,  and  with  a  spring  she 
passed  into  the  dressing-room.  She  caught  from  the 
lounge  the  beautiful  boy,  who,  sound  asleep,  was  rosy 
and  lovely  as  a  flower.  "  Do  you  not  know  him  ?  "  she 
asked  triumphantly,  placing  him  in  his  mother's  arms, 
who  instinctly  held  them  out  lest  he  should  fall  to  the 
floor. 

Sybil  looked  down  on  him  an  instant,  and  met  his 
now  open  eyes,  his  eyes,  so  like  her  own.  Mother  and 
child  gazed  at  each  other  as  in  a  trance. 

"  Oh,  my  God ! "  she  breathed,  sinking  down  on  her 
knees,  "  have  mercy  upon  me." 

The  sight  was  touching.  Helen's  eyes  swam  with 
tears.  She  bade  the  woman  go  back  into  the  other 
room,  and  having  shut  the  door,  said  softly,  "Rise, 
Sybil.  You  are  a  mother.  And  now  trust  my  love 
fully.  Surely  you  know  its  kindness.  Tell  me  truly, 
are  you  also  a  wife  ?  " 

Sybil  closed  her  eyes.  The  baby  hands  played  with 
her  ear-jewel.  In  a  moment  he  cooed  softly,  "Pretty 
lady,  pretty  lady  !  I  love  'oo,  pretty  lady." 

Sybil  covered  his  head  with  passionate  kisses,  and 
looked  at  him  with  an  impulse  of  unutterable  pride  and 


218  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

joy.  "My  beautiful  boy,  my  noble  boy,"  she  murmured 
with  all  a  mother's  happiness  in  her  handsome,  healthy 
child. 

Helen  watched  her  with  a  keen  sensation  of  sympathy 
and  compassion.  Surely  the  heart  could  not  be  all  bad, 
the  soul  all  false,  which  could  so  fondly  express  maternal 
emotion. 

Sybil  suddenly  shook  herself,  and  set  the  boy  on  his 
feet,  and  rising,  took  him  slowly  to  the  dressing-room, 
and  gave  him  to  the  nurse.  "  Take  him,"  she  said, 
unheeding  the  painful  bewilderment  of  the  woman,  and 
sharply  closing  the  door.  She  then  turned  to  Helen. 
Her  face  wore  an  expression  of  cool  audacity.  "  Since 
circumstances  have  betrayed  my  secret  into  your  hands, 
I  suppose  there  is  no  longer  use  in  denial.  I  expect 
no  mercy  from  you.  You  are  a  woman,  and  no  woman 
yet  had  mercy  on  another  whose  destiny  had  brought 
her  to  my  pass.  You  ask  me  if  I  am  a  wife  ?  I  told 
you  no,  and  I  tell  you  no  again.  But  if  I  had  been  a 
wife  you  would  not  have  been  one.  Shall  I  tell  you 
more,  or  is  your  curiosity  satisfied  ?  " 

Helen  could  have  struck  her  to  the  ground.  She 
towered  above  her  in  terrible  anger.  "  Madame,"  she 
said,  "  mercy  is  due  to  the  repentant,  not  to  the  defiant. 
My  heart  is  open  to  the  appeal  of  sorrow,  but  I  am 
human  enough  to  resent  insolence.  I  understand  but 
one  thing.  You  came  into  my  house  as  a  virtuous  and 
single  woman.  You  are  a  mother  and  are  called 
madarne.  Yet  you  say  you  are  not  married.  You  do 
not  say  it  humbly  and  with  shame.  You  do  not  confess 
your  sin  with  agony  and  tears.  You  seem  conscience 
less,  for  you  utter  it  as  with  some  lurking  threat  to  me, 
your  friend  and  hostess.  Now,  madame,  you  will 
explain  fully,  or  the  disgrace  you  seem  to  merit  will 
fall  upon  you.  What  is  the  name  of  that  child  ?  " 


"YOUR  HUSBAND"  219 

Sybil  put  on  a  sardonic  smile,  a  smile  which  meant 
the  subtle  triumph  of  a  long  hatred.  It  was  a  look 
which  seemed  to  thrust  and  stab  its  way  into  Helen's 
soul.  She  felt  as  if  a  death-blow  was  coming.  It 
warned  her  beforehand. 

"  Ralfe,"  said  Sybil. 

As  a  great  ship  at  sea  trembles  and  reels  for  a  moment 
when  struck  by  a  tremendous  storm  wave,  but  then  gal 
lantly  rights  itself  and  unerringly  pursues  its  course,  so 
Helen  shuddered  for  an  instant  at  the  sound  of  this 
beloved  name.  But  her  natural  strength,  her  healthful 
mind  and  body,  carried  her  on  with  continued  courage. 

"  Who  is  the  father  of  your  son  ?  " 

"  Your  husband." 

Helen  was  too  incensed  for  words.  Her  indignation 
shook  her  from  head  to  foot.  She  gazed  upon  Sybil 
with  a  face  like  some  great  Greek  goddess,  full  of  un 
utterable  scorn.  Before  her  just  wrath  Sybil  shrank. 
Her  eyes  sought  the  floor,  she  bowed  her  head.  She 
sobbed.  She  caught  the  hem  of  Helen's  dress  and  clung 
to  it  in  seeming  anguish. 

"  Pity  me,  Helen,  my  friend,  my  darling  childhood's 
friend,"  she  murmured.  "  It  is  too  true.  It  is  true,  but 
I  never  dreamed  you  loved  him  so !  It  was  before  you 
knew  him,  only  think.  It  was  more  than  three  years  ago. 
He  wronged  me,  he  injured  me.  He  swore  he  loved  me, 
and  he  made  me  believe  it.  I  was  young,  ardent,  and  I 
loved  him  with  my  whole  soul.  Oh,  Helen,  do  not  be  too 
hard  upon  me  !  Think  if  he  had  flattered  you,  if  he  had 
breathed  vows  of  tenderest  love  to  you,  if  his  kisses  had 
melted  on  your  lips,  and  his  eyes  full  of  passionate 
devotion  had  pleaded  with  your  own !  Would  not  you 
have  yielded?  Could  you  have  resisted  —  even  you, 
chaste  and  cold  and  calm  as  your  Northern  blood  must 
make  you  ?  Then  think  of  me,  a  child  of  the  South, 


220  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

with  every  pulse  on  fire,  with  every  fibre  of  body  aflame  ! 
Have  mercy,  Helen,  have  consideration  !  " 

These  words,  which  fell  on  her  heart  like  drops  of 
molten  lava,  each  with  its  own  keen  pain,  did  not  affect 
Helen's  mind.  Her  imagination  was  stung  into  unspeak 
able  bitterness ;  but  her  reason  remained  steadfast. 
She  answered  sternly,  — 

•''  Sybil,  you  are  an  accomplished  actress,  but  you  are 
dealing  with  a  clear  eye  and  an  honest  soul.  Beware 
how  far  you  carry  these  inventions.  You  know  that 
there  is  not  one  word  of  truth  in  what  you  have  just 
said.  The  man  you  accuse  is  incapable  of  the  least  dis 
honorable  action,  much  less  the  shameless  crime  which 
you  attribute  to  him.  Choose  a  less  noble  being  to 
assail !  You  can  never  prove  a  single  statement." 

"  Can  I  not ! "  almost  screamed  Sybil,  rising  and  pull 
ing  at  something  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  "Can  I 
not,  madame !  Well,  what  is  this  but  proof,  absolute 
proof  ?  "  and  she  drew  out  a  letter  and  placed  it  firmly 
in  Helen's  hand.  It  was  addressed  to  Sybil  in  the  un 
mistakable  handwriting  of  Ealfe  Fielding. 


THE  PEOOF  221 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PROBATION. 

"  Abashed  the  devil  stood, 
And  felt  how  awful  goodness  is,  and  saw 
Virtue  in  her  shape  how  lovely." 

Paradise  Lost. 

A  STRANGE  haze  seemed  to  gather  before  Helen's  eyes 
as  she  held  the  letter  open  before  her.  She  tried  in  vain 
to  see  the  words.  They  swam  together  and  were  lost  in 
a  blot  and  blur.  But  she  knew  her  enemy  wa£  watching 
her  with  malicious  pleasure,  and  with  a  mighty  effort 
she  controlled  herself,  and  slowly  read,  — 

PARIS,  March  16,  1882. 

MY  DARLING  SYBIL,  —  You  know  I  have  long  loved  you  with 
all  the  ardor  of  my  soul.  Even  at  our  first  meeting  you  must  have 
seen  with  what  power  and  passion  love  awakened  within  me.  Has 
not  every  act  of  mine  since,  proved  a  constant  homage  and  devo 
tion?  Even  my  acts  of  folly,  my  impulse,  my  rashness,  but  assure 
you  of  a  passion  which  nothing  checks,  nothing  lessens.  Your 
caprice,  your  coldness,  and  again  your  maddening  kindness,  have 
diivenme  almost  to  desperation.  Why  hold  yourself  aloof  from 
me  now,  when  once  we  were  so  near!  Again  I  beg  you  to  be  my 
wife.  Throw  aside  these  foolish  scruples.  Have  no  fear  that  any 
thing  you  have  ever  done,  or  ever  may  do,  can  alter  the  affection 
which  seems  to  be  a  very  part  of  my  being.  Am  I  faultless?  Am  I 
blameless?  Have  not  I  too  sinned?  Ah!  who  has  not?  Be  one 
with  me.  Are  we  not  one  already?  What  remains  but  that  little 
ceremony  which  will  make  me  blessed  beyond  expression!  You 
love  me  as  I  love  you.  I  have  read  it  in  your  eyes,  felt  it  burn  in 
your  touch.  I  have  been  ravished  with  the  perfume  of  love  in 
your  hair,  gone  mad  from  the  pressure  of  your  lip.  Do  not  tear 


222  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

me  from  myself!  You  are  in  me  and  of  me,  one  and  indivisible. 
The  very  blood  in  our  veins  leaps  in  rhythm,  for  I  have  felt  it  throb 
bing  in  your  pretty  wrist.  Be  mine,  be  mine!  Let  nothing  influ 
ence  you  to  deny  me.  The  past  is  past.  Let  it  sink  into  oblivion. 
Once  my  wife,  our  past  is  one,  as  will  be  our  future.  I  will  never 
reproach  you,  you  shall  always  trust  me.  Tims  shall  the  secret  be 
doubly  guarded.  I  will  protect  you  from  every  evil.  I  will  sur 
round  you  with  every  comfort.  The  million  —  I  neither  need  nor 
want  it!  How  small  a  sacrifice  for  so  supreme  a  reward.  I  am 
able  to  earn  with  ease  sufficient  for  us  both.  Darling,  you  shall 
never  lack  your  accustomed  luxuries.  Give  me  your  faith.  Unite 
our  destinies  and  make  Heaven  a  visible  truth.  Oh,  answer  me 
quickly! 

RALFE. 

The  torture  of  these  lines  to  Helen  was  so  terrible 
that  her  being  itself  seemed  to  faint  and  die  away.  She 
stood  motionless,  holding  the  paper,  while  thoughts  like 
great  pangs  of  physical  pain  shot  through  her  brain. 

"This,  then,  is  how  he  can  love.  So  no  doubt  he 
loves  her  still.  And  he  is  tied  to  me.  Bound  in  a  hor 
rible  thraldom  which  he  loathes  and  hates,  while  this 
woman  tears  his  heart  with  her  cruel  presence.  What 
suffering  his  true  soul  must  endure.  What  temptation 
is  constantly  before  him.  Oh,  I  pity  him,  I  love  him,  I 
pity  him  !  And  I  would  give  my  life  to  have  received 
such  a  letter !  If  she  now  be  miserable  unto  death,  she 
once  was  supremely  blessed  —  while  I  —  I  "  — 

She  sank  into  a  chair  and  closed  her  eyes. 

A  solemn  silence  fell  upon  the  room.  The  setting  sun 
cast  a  mellow  light  across  one  corner  of  the  now  half- 
dark  apartment,  and  touched  her  pale  beauty  with  a 
melancholy  glow.  Sybil  did  not  move.  She  simply 
waited.  Finally,  Helen  turned  to  her  and  said  in  a  cold, 
penetrating  voice, — 

"  You  received  such  a  proposal  from  the  father  of  your 
child  —  the  proposal  to  make  you  an  honorable  wife  and 
mother  —  and  you  did  not  avail  yourself  of  it!  You 


A  SLIP  OF  THE  TONGUE  223 

permitted  him  to  break  his  heart  and  marry  me  ;  to 
leave  you  still  dishonored  and  disgraced,  when  you  had 
but  to  say  one  word  to  be  this  good  man's  wife  ?  Why, 
your  tricks  are  laughable.  You  are  not  even  clever. 
You  should  have  kept  this  communication  to  yourself. 
Do  you  think  to  make  me  believe  you  after  this  ?  This 
letter  is  no  proof  of  anything  save  the  generosity  and 
manly  faith  of  Kalfe  Fielding  in  the  woman  he  adores. 
It  states  nothing  positively.  It  only  alludes  to  secrets 
and  scruples.  I  will  show  him  this  letter,"  quietly  put 
ting  it  in  her  pocket.  "  He  shall  identify  his  writing 
and  explain  its  meaning." 

Then,  indeed,  was  Sybil  baffled.  She  looked  as  if  she 
could  spring  upon  Helen  and  tear  her  limb  from  limb. 
But  in  a  second  she  was  the  tearful  hypocrite  again, 
fawning  at  her  feet. 

"  Would  you  be  so  cruel  to  me  as  that  ?  I  could  not 
marry  him,  I  dared  not  tell  him.  Can  you  have  the 
heart  to  disgrace  me  forever  in  his  eyes  ?  His  happi 
ness  too  — you  will  ruin  it  forever  !  He  knows  nothing 
of  this  child !  I  have  kept  the  secret  for  three  years, 
hidden  as  if  in  the  grave.  Have  I  not  been  brave,  good, 
merciful  to  him,  to  hide  from  him  the  miserable  extent 
of  his  folly  ?  Did  I  not  do  my  duty  when  he  wrote  me 
this  letter,  to  return  it  unanswered  ?  " 

This  slip  of  the  tongue  was  instantly  perceived  by 
Helen.  She  smiled  in  superb  contempt.  "If  you  re 
turned  the  letter,"  said  she,  the  slow  disgust  making 
her  voice  stingingly  quiet,  "how  does  it  happen  to  be 
in  your  possession  ?  " 

Sybil  was  silent.  She  knew  not  which  way  to  turn. 
Finally  conjuring  up  another  falsity,  she  answered,  — 

"Since  I  came  here  I  begged  him  to  give  it  to  me 
again,  and  he  did  so.  You  know  he  loves  me."  Her 
tones  rang  out  defiantly,  "He  gave  it  willingly,  yes,  will- 


224        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

ingly.  Why  do  you  try  to  battle  with  ine  ?  You  can 
only  gain  sorrow  by  it.  He  loved  me  from  the  moment 
he  saw  me.  If  he  wronged  me  it  was  because  he  loved 
me  too  well.  And  I  ?  I  loved  him  too  much  to  stand 
in  his  way.  I  have  seen  life,  I  know  the  world.  Money 
means  power,  and  to  him  money  meant  you.  Without 
you  he  would  be  a  pauper ;  with  you  he  is  a  millionnaire. 
What  would  any  woman  do  who  thought  nothing  of  giv 
ing  her  life  for  the  man  she  loved  ?  Sacrifice  herself. 
Yes,  sacrifice  herself.  Men  do  not,  but  women  do.  I 
did.  I  buried  myself  for  months,  I  bore  his  child  in  a 
garret ;  I  hid  it,  as  I  believed,  for  many  years  to  come 
in  the  country,  far  away  from  Paris,  and  I  refused  to 
marry  him  because  to  marry  him  would  be  to  take  away 
his  fortune.  Will  you  curse  me  for  thus  loving  him 
whom  you  love,  whom  you  own,  whose  allegiance  you 
can  claim,  whose  life  must  be  held  to  yours  with  bonds 
of  iron,  whose  children  may  be  yours  ?  Will  you 
denounce  me  to  him  and  show  him  his  child  and  bring 
this  horror  and  disgrace  on  yourself  ?  For  the  love  of 
Heaven  and  justice,  do  not  do  this  bitter  thing." 

Helen  looked  at  her  coldly. 

"Is  it  not  just  possible  that  you  refused  him  because 
it  would  take  away  his  fortune  to  accept  ?  Is  it  not 
just  possible  that  you  remembered  money  was  a  power, 
regarding  yourself  ?  I  believe  poverty  would  not  be 
agreeable  to  you,  madame.  I  think  you  prefer  laces  to 
rags.  If  by  marrying  him  you  would  have  gained 
instead  of  lost  a  million,  you  perhaps  might  have  given 
him  a  different  answer.  And  now,  now  that  he  has 
become  master  of  his  property  by  this  supreme  sacrifice 
of  yours,  where  do  I  find  you  ?  Wearing  out  your  heart 
away  from  him  ?  Killing  out  a  bad  passion  by  honest 
endeavor,  or  turning  to  some  other  pursuit  than  the 
vain  and  reckless  follies  of  a  woman  of  the  gay  world  ? 


SINNER !  225 

No !  You  are  here,  under  his  roof,  the  guest  of  his  wife, 
enjoying  his  hospitality,  hiding  from  him  his  true  rela 
tionship  to  you,  accepting  his  favors,  torturing  him  with 
the  person  which  beguiled  him,  exercising  all  your  wiles 
and  graces  to  win  his  noble  heart  away  from  the  right 
path  and  to  steal  his  soul  away  with  your  infernal  arts. 
He  has  his  money  now,  and  what  may  not  be  your  scheme 
to  finally  make  it  yours  ?  You  are  here,  as  you  claim, 
the  injured  woman  whom  he  wronged,  the  mother  of  the 
child  he  never  knew,  for  what  ?  He  loves  you,  you  say. 
What  then  ?  What  do  you  intend  ?  What  do  you 
propose  ?  With  what  seductive  charm  do  you  mean  to 
entice  him,  and  when  you  have  captured  him  what  shall 
you  do  with  him  ?  You  will  lead  him  down  to  per 
dition." 

She  poured  this  torrent  of  words  upon  Sybil  with 
overwhelming  intensity  and  solemnity.  She  seemed  to 
burn  with  them.  Sybil  sat  as  if  stunned.  Was  this 
the  cold,  the  gentle  Helen  ?  Was  it  possible  that  this 
magnificent  anger  which  lit  up  her  beauty  until  she 
gleamed  like  a  lurid  star,  was  a  part  of  the  woman 
whom  she  had  sneeringly  called  "tame"?  She  became 
cold  and  horribly  afraid.  She  could  not  answer.  She 
felt  a  strange  sense  of  moral  fear.  If  a  great  angel  of 
God  had  drawn  a  flaming  sword  before  her  and  called 
her  "  Sinner ! "  she  could  hardly  have  experienced  a  more 
singular  feeling  of  awe.  Her  spirit  was  struck  a  blow 
which  searched  it  to  the  quick.  Her  very  mind  seemed 
congealed.  A  long  silence  followed.  At  last  Sybil 
shudderingly  asked  in  a  low  tone,  — 

«  What  shall  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall  do  what  is  right  and  just  to  each  and  every 
one  of  us,  regardless  of  consequences.  I  do  not  believe 
this  tissue  of  paltry  lies,  but  I  will  give  you  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt.  You  may  be  telling  the  truth,  I  shall 


226  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

take  every  honorable  method  to  find  out.  But  since 
you  plead  with  me  so  earnestly,  and  since  at  last  you 
shed  tears  of  entreaty,  humbly  begging  instead  of  defy 
ing  me,  I  promise  you  to  reserve  my  judgment  until 
later,  and  that  I  will  not  take  any  step  towards  enlight 
ening  my  husband  as  to  your  character,  until  I  have 
given  you  fair  warning.  But  of  one  thing  rest  assured ; 
if  you  have  been  wronged  and  have  made  this  sacrifice 
truly  and  purely  from  love  of  my  husband,  I  will  do 
you  full  justice.  The  wrong  shall  be  repaired,  the  love 
and  sacrifice  returned  fourfold.  You  shall  be  repaid 
with  joy  ten  times  what  you  have  suffered.  But  if  you 
have  accused  him  wrongly,  —  Sybil,  God  pity  you ! 
Meantime  the  child  is  mine.  I  shall  adopt  him.  He 
will  be  my  charge.  If  he  really  belongs  to  my  husband 
it  is  right  that  he  should,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
live  under  his  father's  influence.  Certainly,  you  had 
abandoned  him  in  person  if  not  in  purse.  He  was  being 
no  comfort  to  you,  and  you  were  giving  him  nothing  of 
a  mother's  attentions.  In  any  case,  you  cannot  own 
him.  He  is  orphaned  of  both  parents.  You  cannot 
claim  him.  You  are  not  in  Paris  now.  You  are  not  a 
madame  here.  You  are  a  young,  virtuous  gentlewoman, 
associating  with  pure  and  honorable  gentlewomen.  You 
are  a  lady,  here.  You  are  a  maiden,  madame." 

'•'And  so  are  you,"  almost  shouted  Sybil,  in  a  mad, 
triumphant  burst.  "  And  so  are  you ! " 

Helen  looked  upon  her  with  a  quiet  dignity  whose 
calmness  seemed  the  very  chrism  of  chastity. 

"That  is  true,"  she  said  gently,  "and  my  sense  of 
justice  will  be  all  the  more  unbiassed  in  consequence." 

"  Oh,  that  some  power  would  strike  her  dead,"  thought 
Sybil,  a  murderous  desire  seeming  to  stifle  her.  "How 
dare  she  plunge  the  dagger  into  me  with  such  a  cool, 
scornful,  delicate  hand  ?  " 


"YOU  SHALL  DIE  FIKST!"  227 

For  one  spark  of  human  feeling  yet  remained  within 
her;  one  bright,  beautiful  enthusiasm,  one  fond  ambi 
tion,  one  loyely  passion,  warm  and  tender,  still  flooded 
her  treacherous  and  selfish  heart.  It  was  her  love  for 
her  little  child.  She  sobbed  out  loud.  She  wept  tears 
of  agony  which  she  could  not  stay.  This  time  the 
anguish  was  too  terrible  to  be  feigned. 

"  What,  take  my  baby  from  me  ?  Never  let  him 
know  his  mother's  face  ?  Bring  him  up  to  love,  re 
spect,  admire  you?  To  give  you  the  beautiful  name 
of  mother  ?  To  give  you  the  caresses  of  his  little 
arms,  the  love  of  his  beautiful  eyes  ?  My  child  your 
child  !  My  rights  your  rights,  my  love  your  love  ?  Oh, 
no  !  this  is  too  great  a  punishment.  It  is  too  hard.  I 
shall  never  live  to  bear  it.  You  will  kill  me.  You  can 
not,  you  shall  not  do  it."  And  dashing  forward,  she 
fiercely  caught  Helen  by  the  arm.  "You  shall  die 
first ! " 

"Very  well,"  said  Helen  quietly,  "I  will  take  him 
down  to  dinner  and  introduce  him  as  your  son." 

Sybil  could  bear  no  more.  She  went  to  the  door  and 
turning,  looked  with  baffled  and  merciless  hate  upon  her 
hostess.  But  she  simply  said,  "  And  I  ?  " 

Helen  unlocked  the  door  and  opened  it  for  her  to 
pass. 

"  You  will  dress  for  dinner  and  be  the  wittiest  and 
gayest  of  the  party.  You  are  on  probation." 


228  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTEK  XXVII. 

THE    KOSE    BLOOMS. 

"  The  utterance  of  tlrese  things  is  torture  to  me,  but  so,  too,  is 
their  silence.  Each  way  lies  woe  strong  as  fate." 

Prometheus  Bound. 

"I  cannot  speak 

Of  love,  even,  as  a  good  thing  of  my  own, 
Thy  soul  hath  snatched  up  mine  all  faint  and  weak, 
And  placed  it  by  thee  on  a  golden  throne." 

Portuguese  Sonnets. 

HELEN  had  disappeared  very  soon  after  dinner,  and  as 
she  went  to  her  own  room,  she  sent  an  order  to  her 
butler.  James  appeared  before  his  mistress  in  a  twink 
ling.  Her  servants  loved  her.  "  I  am  about  to  send 
you  to  New  York,  James,  to  accompany  a  lady  to  a 
foreign  steamer.  I  have  ascertained  that  a  steamer  sails 
for  Havre  to-morrow  at  noon.  You  will  take  the  mid 
night  train,  and  in  the  morning  escort  her  directly  to 
the  office  of  the  line,  where  you  will  buy  her  a  first-class 
ticket.  Accompany  her  then  to  the  steamer  and  see 
that  her  state-room  is  agreeable.  Secure  her  a  good 
seat  at  table,  and  speak  to  the  stewardess  about  her  com 
fort.  When  you  have  done  this  remain  on  the  dock 
until  the  steamer  sails,  and  do  not  come  home  without 
being  able  to  assure  me  that  she  has  sailed  also.  At  the 
last  moment,  before  you  leave  her,  hand  her  fifty  dollars, 
and  tell  her  to  remember  what  I  have  said  to  her.  Here 
is  sufficient  money.  Come  home  at  once  when  the 
steamer  is  under  way,  and  if  any  one  questions  you, 


A  SURPRISE  229 

either  now  or  later,  here  or  there,  you  can  answer  simply 
that  I  permitted  you  to  visit  New  York.  Treat  the 
lady  with  perfect  respect.  She  is  French,  and  cannot 
talk  with  you.  And  James,  the  carriage  will  be  at  the 
side  door,  nearest  the  stable,  at  about  eleven.  Be  prompt 
and  keep  your  instructions  fully  in  your  mind.  Do  you 
understand  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do,"  said  James,  respectfully.  "My 
old  master,  your  uncle,  Miss  Helen,  as  you  well  know, 
trusted  me  with  a  good  many  of  his  affairs,  and,  Miss 
Helen  —  I  mean  madam  —  I  am  sure  you  know,  well  — 
I'll  do  all  you  say,  ma'am,  and  not  make  a  single  mis 
take." 

"  You  are  a  good  soul,  James,"  said  Helen,  smiling  very 
kindly  at  him,  "and  I  trust  you  fully.  This  matter  is 
important.  James,  you  may  be  somewhat  astonished  to 
find  a  little  boy  in  this  house  when  you  come  back.  I 
am  going  to  adopt  one." 

"Well,  ma'am,"  he  said  in  answer,  turning  to  hide  a 
chuckle,  "  I  'ope  as  it  won't  be  the  last  little  boy  we 
shall  hever  see  around  here,  not  presumin'  too  much." 

"  Say  nothing  of  this,  James,"  said  Helen,  quietly ; 
and  the  door  was  delicately  closed  behind  him. 

"  And  this  French  lady  is  the  little  feller's  mother," 
thought  James,  cunningly.  "  She's  sold  'im,  the  frog- 
eater  !  Hah  ! " 

"  The  little  feller "  was  sound  asleep  in  the  inner 
room,  all  unconscious  that  his  nurse  had  forever  left  him, 
when  the  morning  sun  crept  softly  across  his  pillow  and 
touched  his  silky  head  to  shimmering  gold.  A  pretty 
young  maid  stood  gazing  upon  him  with  wonderment 
and  delight.  Helen  watched  the  expression  of  her  face 
and  said  pleasantly,  "  I  promised  you  a  surprise  yester 
day.  How  do  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  isn't  he  just  a  little  love,  a  little  darling ! 


230  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

And  am  I  to  wait  on  him  and  take  care  of  him,  ma'am, 
all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Kitty,  he  is  a  poor  little  boy  who  has  no  father 
or  mother  to  protect  him,  so  I  thought  I  would  let  him 
live  here  with  us  as  our  own.  I  hope  he  will  prove  a 
good  child.  I  hope  you  will  always  treat  him  with 
patience  and  kindness,  Kitty.  Do  you  promise  ?  " 

Tears  leaped  from  the  great,  generous  Irish  heart  of 
the  girl  to  her  bonny,  blue  eyes.  "  Indeed  I  will.  I 
will  never  say  a  cross  word  to  him." 

"Very  well,  when  he  has  had  his  bath  and  breakfast, 
you  may  send  one  of  the  maids  to  me  and  I  will  take  him 
down-stairs." 

"I  have  a  little  surprise  for  you  all,"  said  Helen, 
entering  the  breakfast-room,  where  Ralfe  and  most  of 
the  guests  had  assembled.  "  Somebody  said  the  other 
day  that  this  house  would  be  perfect  if  it  only  had  some 
children  playing  about.  I  am  determined  to  make  the 
house  perfect,  and  so  I  have  secured  a  pretty  little  child. 
Shall  I  bring  him  to  you  ?  " 

A  shout  of  glee  went  up  at  this  announcement.  Guy 
brought  forward  a  remarkably  natural  earthen  pug  dog 
and  queried,  "  Is  it  this  kind  ?  " 

"  Or  this  ?  "  said  Charlie  Vane,  pointing  to  a  cunning 
cupid  on  the  ceiling. 

"  Or  this  ? "  smiled  Sardia,  lifting  a  porcelain  hen 
from  her  dish  of  snowy  eggs. 

"  Is  it  alive  ?  "  cried  Lulu,  with  wide  eyes,  "  really  and 
truly  alive  ?  " 

"You  shall  see,"  answered  Helen,  smiling,  and  in  a 
few  moments  coming  back  through  the  door,  she  was 
seen  leading  by  the  hand  the  sweetest,  manliest  little 
man  of  three  that  they  had  ever  met. 

Every  one  was  speechless  with  astonishment.  Then 
a  perfect  chorus  of  voices  demanded  to  know  who  he 


AN  INNOVATION  231 

was,  where  he  came  from,  who  was  his  mother,  who  his 
father,  if  he  was  to  stay,  and  if  she  had  really  adopted 
him,  and  finally  Ralfe  said  gently,  "  What  is  his  name  ?  " 
Helen  parried  all  these  questions  with  infinite  tact,  while 
the  boy,  glancing  his  dark  eyes  about  from  one  to  another, 
seemed  solemnly  to  consider  his  new  surroundings. 

"  His  name  shall  be  that  of  the  person  to  whom  he 
shall  voluntarily  go.  You  may  all  coax  him."  So  then, 
one  and  all  called  and  coaxed,  held  out  their  arms  and 
begged  him  to  come  to  them.  Helen  bent  clown  and  said 
softly  in  French,  "  Go  to  the  one  you  like  best,  dear," 
and  he  slowly  released  his  hand  from  hers  and  marched 
straight  into  Ralfe's  arms. 

"  I  am  charmed,"  articulated  her  husband  with  a  deep 
flush  rising  to  his  forehead.  Then  looking  into  the 
bright,  trustful  little  face  that  was  gazing  in  sober 
baby-fashion  into  his  own,  he  lifted  the  little  lad  up, 
kissed  him,  and  swinging  him  to  his  shoulder,  marched 
up  and  down  with  his  trophy  really  delighted,  while  the 
others  laughed,  "  Victory,  victory !  his  name  is  Ralfe." 

"  Oui,  oui !  "  cried  the  little  chap,  hearing  his  familiar 
name,  "Ralfe,  Ralfe." 

"Was  not  that  a  slight  innovation  of  our  mutual 
comradeship  ?  "  said  her  husband  to  Helen  later,  when 
the  boy  had  been  taken  into  the  garden  by  his  new  nurse. 
"  Should  you  not  have  told  me  ?  "  a  little  reproachfully. 

"  I  did  not  suppose  you  would  be  especially  inter 
ested,"  she  answered.  "I  can  amply  provide  for  him," 
and  she  dropped  her  eyes  with  a  sudden  loss  of  color. 

"  Helen,"  he  cried  passionately,  "  I  am  interested  in 
everything  you  do,  say,  think  !  Do  you  imagine  I  can 
have  lived  so  long  in  your  presence,  and  remain  cold 
and  dispassionate  ?  No,  no,  it  is  you,  always  you  who 
are  not  interested  in  me.  Had  you  been,  had  you  read 
me,  understood  me,  this  might  not,  —  I  mean  that  I 


232  SARDIA:   A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

always  feel  a  comradeship — a  partnership,  at  least,  in 
all  that  concerns  you." 

They  had  followed  the  nurse  and  child  slowly  down 
the  path,  and  now  stood  near  that  clump  of  oaks,  under 
which  Guy  and  Lulu  had  learned  the  spider's  lesson. 

"You  flatter  me,"  said  Helen  coldly.  "I  had  not 
supposed  you  capable  of  deviating  a  hair  from  the  true 
line  of  your  devotion." 

A  dark  flush  crimsoned  Ralfe's  face,  and  he  angrily 
crushed  an  oak-leaf  in  his  hand.  "  I  am  used  to  being 
believed,"  said  he. 

"  Then  if  it  is  true,  and  you  really  take  an  interest,  I 
will  answer  your  question.  You  wished  to  know  if  I 
did  not  think  I  had  made  an  innovation  ?  Well,  yes, 
but  under  the  circumstances  a  most  natural  one." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  but  I  wish  to  return  to  my 
protest.  I  wish  you  to  know,  Helen,  how  deeply,  how 
richly  you  have  impressed  me  with  your  consideration, 
your  goodness,  ah  —  I  cannot,  I  dare  not  say  —  nay,  I  am 
too  proud  to  say  what  I  wish.  Why  cannot  you  see, 
read,  feel  all  that  is  growing  in  my  soul  ?  "  clasping  her 
hand  fervently  yet  impatiently,  and  gazing  into  her 
face  with  wistfulness  and  strange  passion,  as  if  something 
was  dawning  with  a  flush  of  rosy  light  in  the  dark  night 
of  his  troubled  being. 

"  You  can  love,  how  deeply  you  can  love,  I  know  full 
well ! "  answered  his  wife  in  a  soft,  sad  tone ;  "  but  it  is 
not  me.  Do  not  speak,"  as  he  tried  to  interrupt  her. 
"  Let  us  have  an  understanding,  since  you  desire  it. 
You  love,  you  have  always  loved  Sybil  Visonti  with 
your  whole  being.  You  wished  to  marry  her.  You 
wrote  her  so  in  words  that  seem  to  burn  where  they  are 
written.  She  is  here,  and  you  love  her  more  madly  than 
ever.  Would  you  not  say  the  same  words  over  to-day  if 
you  could  ?  " 


IS  NOBODY  TRUE?  233 

"  What  do  you  know  of  that  letter  ?  "  asked  Kalfe, 
looking  at  her  with  infinite  surprise. 

"  Here  it  is,"  she  answered,  drawing  it  from  her  little 
bag,  and  placing  it  in  his  hand.  "  I  restore  it  to  you." 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  with  a  face  growing  more 
and  more  white  and  dazed. 

"So  it  was  you,  you,  who  took  that  letter  from  my 
desk.  Curious  and  dishonorable !  Who  would  have 
believed  it  ?  I  thought,  at  least,  my  private  papers,  my 
own  writing  desk,  would  be  held  sacred  by  you.  By 
Heaven  !  Is  nobody  on  earth  true  ?  " 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  Helen  raised  her  head 
higher  and  higher  until  righteous  pride  flashed  on  him 
from  her  eyes,  and  her  lips  set  themselves  in  a  stern, 
strong  curve.  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  you  are  speaking  to 
me." 

The  dignity  of  that  quiet  word  of  self-assertion  caused 
him  to  stop  short. 

A  moment  of  silence  ensued,  when  Helen  said  quietly, 
"  Miss  Visonti  placed  that  letter  in  my  hand  yesterday." 

"Oh,  I  see  !  "  uttered  Ralfe,  starting  as  if  shot.  "It 
is  Miss  Visonti  who  is  to  bear  the  blame.  Well,  madam, 
it  won't  do.  I  know  positively  that  she  never  saw  that 
letter,  never  so  much  as  saw  it  in  Paris  when  I  sent  it 
to  her.  I  searched  for  it  myself,  in  order  to  show  it  to 
her,  and  although  I  am  certain  I  left  it  in  my  desk,  / 
could  not  find  it.  I  suppose  you  had  been  before  me." 

Helen  stood  as  if  transfixed  before  his  scornful  looks. 

She  trembled  a  little,  as  if  a  rough  wind  had  sent  a 
blast  of  sleet  against  her. 

"Nevertheless,  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of  it 
was  yesterday,  when,  to  prove  her  assertions  that  you 
had  always  loved  her,  had  wronged  her,  had  tried  to 
repair  your  wrong  by  an  offer  of  marriage,  which  she 
from  self-sacrificing  love  refused,  because  she  knew  you 


234        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

would  lose  our  uncle's  be  quest  should  she  accept,  Sybil 
Visonti  gave  me  that  letter  to  read,  and  told  me  of  the 
awful  secret  between  you  for  so  long." 

"  When  did  I  wrong  her  ?  "  slowly  asked  Ralfe,  after 
a  strange  silence,  in  which  he  had  taken  time  to  think 
this  extraordinary  statement  over,  and  meantime  had 
leaned  heavily  against  the  oak. 

The  letter  fluttered  from  Helen's  outstretched  hand  to 
the  ground,  and  she  half  turned  away  her  head.  "  About 
four  years  ago,"  she  answered  in  a  low  tone,  a  blush 
creeping  over  her  face  and  neck. 

"How  did  Miss  Visonti  come  into  possession  of  the 
letter,  did  you  say  ? "  went  on  Ealfe  in  a  voice  half- 
indifferent  sounding,  it  was  so  soft  and  tempered. 

"You  gave  it  to  her  yourself  since  she  came  here 
willingly,  because  she  asked  you  for  it." 

"And  how  did  I  get  it  back  from  her  in  the  first 
place  ?  " 

"  She  sent  it  back,  and  without  an  answer,  on  purpose 
to  drive  you  away,  and  pique  you  to  come  over  here  and 
secure  your  fortune  by  marrying  me." 

"  Where  is  James  ?  "  suddenly  and  loudly  spoke  Ealfe, 
stepping  forward  with  a  terrible  look.  "Where  is 
James,  your  spy,  James  ? " 

Helen  faced  him  in  amazement.  "James!"  she  fal 
tered,  thinking  quickly  and  with  horror,  "  Is  he  crazy  ? ' 
"James,"  she  repeated  with  a  frightened  air,  "I  have 
sent  him  to  New  York." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  Ralfe  with  a  laugh  of  infinite 
bitterness  and  scorn.  "  Oh,  you  have  sent  him  to  New 
York !  Madam,  you  are  not  much  of  a  strategist.  You 
should  have  suspected  that  I  would  hit  upon  your  plot 
and  the  way  of  it.  You  should  have  had  him  here,  well 
coached.  It  looks  suspicious  to  have  him  in  New  York. 
Well,  what  else  did  he  hear  ?  " 


LOVE'S  ROSE  235 

Helen  had  recovered  her  calmness.  She  saw  Ralfe 
was  not  crazy,  and  she  was  certain  he  was  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  truth.  "Ralfe,"  said  she,  "I  do  not 
know  what  you  mean  about  James,  and  I  intend  to 
explain  his  absence.  But  you  force  me  to  plain  meas- 
ures-.by  suggesting  that  I  am  not  speaking  facts.  Miss 
Visonti  told  uie  yesterday  that  as  the  result  of  the 
wrong  done  to  her  was  utterly  unknown  to  you,  and  she 
had  kept  it  as  a  sacred  secret  from  you  all  these  years, 
that  you  could  not  understand,  and  it  would  be  cruel  to 
tell  you.  But  I  cannot  permit  such  complications  to 
arise.  I  am  ready,  as  I  told  her,  to  do  all  in  my  power 
to  set  this  terrible  matter  right.  If  you  still  love  each 
other;  if  she  truly  made  this  tremendous  sacrifice  for 
you ;  if  she  has  concealed  the  results  of  your  folly  from 
her  devotion  to  your  happiness,  you  and  I  will  repay 
her  tenfold  what  she  has  suffered.  It  is  useless  to  con 
ceal  it,  the  truth  is  always  best.  Ralfe,  the  child  you 
see  there,  playing  by  that  flower-bed,  is  rightly  named. 
He  is  your  child,  and  his  mother  is  Sybil  Visonti." 

Ralfe  looked  at  the  child,  then  at  Helen,  and  again  at 
the  child,  finally  breaking  into  a  laugh,  —  such  a  laugh  ! 
He  laughed  first  as  if  the  comicality  of  the  whole  affair 
was  too  delightful  for  anything,  and  then  laughed  with 
a  growing  satiric  scorn  until  it  fell  on  Helen's  ear  like 
drops  of  flame. 

"Madam,"  he  finally  answered,  his  quiet  being  more 
impressive  by  contrast,  "that  is  an  unmitigated  false 
hood.  I  am  a  man,  but  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  I 
am  pure." 

When  a  rose  is  just  about  to  open  its  rich  petals  to 
the  sun,  yet  still  hangs  heavy  and  hesitating  on  the 
stem,  and  a  sweet,  clean,  fresh  breeze  sweeps  along, 
catching  its  fragrant  leaves  with  a  quickening  vibrant 
force,  the  blossom  suddenly  turns  its  beautiful  self 


23G  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

upward,  and  displays  in  an  instant  its  heart  of  ruddy 
gold. 

So  Helen,  caught  by  the  sweep  of  this  unexpected 
speech,  divinely  clear  and  simple,  driving  away  every 
evil  and  heavy  thing  out  of  her  soul,  and  giving  her  its 
life  and  force  of  truth,  looked  up. 

And,  as  he  gazed  into  that  heart  of  gold,  lying  open 
before  him,  breathing  its  beauty,  its  fragrance,  its 
exquisite  essence  of  invisible  sweetness,  purity,  and 
goodness  upon  him  through  her  illumined  face,  the  dead 
ened,  darkened,  netted,  ensnared  spirit  within  him 
leaped  with  an  impetuous  rush  for  freedom.  Responsive 
to  that  wonderful  attraction,  which  for  the  first  time 
was  fully  put  forth  to  draw  him,  his  being  answered 
as  does  the  harp  to  a  master-hand,  and  he  recognized  in 
one  keen,  ecstatic  instant  the  dual,  the  only  mate  to 
mate  his  soul. 

Without  another  word,  both  trembling  with  the  hid 
den,  heavenly  peace  and  joy  which  both  knew  had  come 
to  each,  and  was  shared  by  each,  they  moved  apart  to 
meet  a  maid  who  was  hurrying  towards  them.  She 
hardly  stopped  to  make  her  little  courtesy  before  she 
burst  out,  "  Oh  !  madam,  would  you  not  come  quickly  to 
see  Miss  Visonti  ?  She  went  to  bed  very  soon  after 
dinner,  and  it  seems  she  has  been  ill  ever  since.  And, 
madam,  I  am  afraid,  —  I  am  afraid,  —  and  Jane  is  afraid, 
something  very  strange  is  the  matter  with  her.  She 
seems  to  not  know  us,  and  she  keeps  saying,  '  Tick  — 
tock,  the  clock  on  the  stairs,'  and  then  she  will  say, 
'  The  moon,  oh !  the  moon,  it  will  follow  me,  follow  me 
and  kill  rue,  it  will  ride  over  my  grave. ' ' 


A  LITTLE  VISIT  237 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

REVELATIONS. 

"  A  worthless  woman  !    Mere  cold  clay, 
As  all  false  things  are  ?  hut  so  fair, 
She  takes  the  breath  of  men  away, 
Who  gaze  upon  her  unaware. 

I  would  not  play  her  larcenous  tricks 
To  have  her  looks  !    She  lied  and  stole, 
And  spat  into  my  love's  pure  pyx, 
The  rank  saliva  of  her  soul." 

The  Nightingales. 

"  That  door  could  lead  to  hell  ? 
That  shining  merely  meant  damnation  ? 
What  ?    She  fell  like  a  woman  who  was  sent 
Like  an  angel,  by  a  spell!    She  who 
Scarcely  trod  the  earth  turned  mere  dirt  ?  " 

Mrs.  Browning. 

As  they  approached  the  entrance,  they  perceived  Sig- 
nor  Zante,  who  was  standing  on  the  great  steps  awaiting 
them.  A  groom  was  just  taking  the  Princess  Menshi- 
koff's  white  horses  around  to  the  stable,  which  indicated 
that  he  had  come  to  make  one  of  his  unceremonious  little 
visits  which  had  grown  to  be  a  pleasure  to  all.  He 
watched  with  his  keen  old  eyes  the  expression  resting 
on  the  young  faces  coming  toward  him,  and  their  joyous 
confusion  seemed  to  cast  a  slight  shadow  over  his  own. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,  —  both,"  he  hesitated,  "as  I 
had  something  important  to  say,  —  but  I  see  there  is 
something  unusual  going  on.  Why  are  you  so  agi 
tated  ?  " 


238  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"Miss  Visonti  is  ill,"  replied  Helen,  "and  I  must 
hasten  to  her.  She  did  not  appear  at  breakfast,  and 
from  what  her  maid  says,  I  should  judge  she  has  a 
fever." 

She  went  by  in  continued  haste  to  the  telephone,  and 
was  soon  heard  calling  up  her  physician. 

"  You,  at  least,  can  listen  to  me,"  said  Signer  Zante  to 
Ealfe.  "  I  beg  of  you  to  come  at  once  to  the  library, 
where  we  shall  not  be  disturbed." 

Ralfe  had  watched  Helen  move  along  into  the  morn 
ing-room  with  a  curious  look  in  his  eyes,  but  now  turned 
with  alacrity  to  his  guest. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  but  first  will  you  not  have  a 
glass  of  wine  ?  You  look  pale.  Have  you  had  bad 
news  ?  " 

"I  will  take  a  little  brandy,  please.  Thanks.  Xo,  I 
am  many  years  beyond  personal  troubles,"  he  answered 
with  a  smile.  "  But  I  am  never  beyond  feeling  my  old 
heart  quake  for  my  friends,"  and  as  he  seated  himself  in 
Ealfe's  "  workroom  "  he  gave  him  an  affectionate  glance. 

"  There  is  hardly  anything  more  bitter  in  life  than  its 
disillusions.  To  pull  down  our  idols  and  examine  them 
microscopically  causes  us  the  same  pangs  that  we  might 
fancy  an  insect  feels  when  denuded  of  his  wings.  He 
can  fly  no  more  —  and  our  goddesses  become  poor  earthy 
creatures,  unable  to  crawl  any  more  into  our  regards.  I 
am  sad,  this  morning,  because  I  propose  to  disillusion 
you.  I  am  going  to  strip  your  goddess  of  her  wings." 

During  his  speech  Ealfe  had  flushed  a  deep,  dark 
color,  as  if  some  intense  emotion,  strongly  controlled, 
was  playing  within  him. 

"  You  speak  of  Helen  ?  "  he  said. 

It  was  now  Signor  Zante's  turn  to  flush  with  surprise. 
A  sardonic  smile,  however,  crept  over  his  lips,  which  be 
could  but  half  conceal. 


THE  KUBY  DAGGER  239 

"  Since  when  ?  "  he  said  simply. 

Kalfe  looked  up  with  a  manly  candor. 

"It  should  have  been  always,"  he  answered,  rising 
and  looking  his  old  friend  straight  in  the  eyes,  "  and  it 
is,  —  now." 

"  I  congratulate  you  on  coming  to  your  reason,"  grasp 
ing  his  hand  warmly.  "Now,  my  task  will  not  be  so 
trying.  Kalfe,  do  you  remember  seeing  a  very  beautiful 
ornament  worn  by  Miss  Visonti  in  her  hair  ?  It  is  a 
dagger,  and  the  hilt  is  set  with  fine  rubies.  She  some 
times  takes  it  out  and  plays  with  it,  as  if  it  were  a  paper- 
knife  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  often  seen  it.  She  wore  it  last  even 
ing." 

"  Did  she  ever  make  any  remarks  about  it  ?  " 

"Nothing  save  to  say  that  it  was  a  gift." 

"  How  long  has  she  had  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  of  course  I  don't  know.  But  I  remember  she 
had  it  in  Paris  more  than  a  year  ago,  for  I  cut  my  hand 
on  it  one  evening." 

"  I  do  not  know  who  gave  it  to  her,"  said  Zante 
thoughtfully,  "but  I  am  pretty  sure.  I  think  it  was 
Julian  Savelli." 

"  Her  brother  ?  Visonti  ?  "  exclaimed  Ealfe.  "  Why, 
she  has  never  yet  met  him." 

"I  think  she  has,"  replied  his  friend  decidedly.  "I 
think  she  has." 

"  She  seemed  astounded  the  evening  you  mentioned 
him.  Don't  you  remember  how  she  did  not  know  or 
dream  she  had  a  brother  ?  " 

"  That  is  true.  She  did  not  dream  Savelli  was  her 
brother,  but  she  had  met  him  all  the  same,  and  I  am 
confident  her  agitation  arose  from  far  graver  causes 
than  the  mere  surprise  of  discovering  a  new  relation. 
But  let  me  tell  you  all  I  know  of  Savelli,  or  rather, 


240  SAUDI  A:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Visonti.  The  Princess  Menshikoff  was  a  life-long 
friend  of  Signor  and  Madame  Visonti.  Their  palace 
in  Venice  was  in  their  early  life,  as  homelike  a  resort 
for  the  princess  as  for  themselves,  —  in  two  words  they 
were  most  intimate  friends.  The  little  boy  Julian  even 
called  the  princess  '  aunt,'  and  always  considered  her  as 
one  of  the  family.  In  those  days  the  Visonti  family 
were  fairly  prosperous.  They  were  infinitely  proud  of 
their  long  genealogy,  and  devoted  to  idolatry  to  the  young 
heir  of  all  their  glories.  He  became  'a  spoiled  child,' 
and  at  fourteen  was  quite  as  mature  as  some  youths  of 
twenty.  He  became  almost  ungovernable  and  was  always 
in  the  midst  of  mischiefs  which  kept  his  parents  in  a 
state  of  terror  for  his  and  their  reputation.  One  day  he 
did  not  return  to  dinner  nor  at  night,  nor  the  next  day, 
and  upon  search  of  the  most  rigid  nature,  nothing  could 
be  discovered  of  his  whereabouts.  But  the  shock  of  his 
disappearance  was  supplemented  by  something  even  more 
terrible  to  the  heart-broken  father  and  mother.  The 
princess  was  visiting  them  at  the  time,  and  her  jewel 
case  was  found  to  be  gone.  It  contained  ornaments  and 
family  gems  which  were  invaluable  for  their  historic  asso 
ciations,  and  the  value  at  the  lowest  estimate  reached 
forty  thousand  pounds." 

Ralfe  made  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"It  seems  almost  impossible,  in  these  days  of  sordid 
calculation,  that  a  woman  should  part  with  such  a  for 
tune  in  jewels  without  making  an  effort  to  discover  and 
punish  the  thief,  but  the  Princess  Menshikoff  had  a  na 
ture  unlike  most  women,  as  you  know.  Her  love  for 
Madame  Visonti,  whose  prostration  was  alarming,  led 
her  to  abandon  the  thought  of  making  further  sorrows. 
Very  wealthy,  the  sum  was  not  of  so  stupendous  a  char 
acter  as  to  embarrass  her,  —  indeed,  she  would  have 
always  preserved  the  gems  for  her  heirs  intact,  and  she 


IN  A  NEW  LAND  241 

could  not  claim  of  a  man  whose  whole  estate  would  not 
cover  a  quarter  of  the  amount,  any  reimbursement  for  her 
loss.  It  was  decided  that  nothing  but  appeals  to  the  boy's 
heart  should  be  made.  No  complaint  to  officials  should 
ever  disgrace  the  old  name.  For  some  weeks  personal 
notices,  worded  in  such  a  manner  as  to  convince  Julian 
of  silence  and  forgiveness  if  he  would  return,  were  scat 
tered  through  the  press  of  Europe,  but  if  he  saw  them 
he  spurned  the  proffered  kindness  and  never  replied. 
His  father  and  mother,  stricken  by  so  great  a  grief, 
could  not  endure  longer  the  associations  of  their  youth. 
Banishing  from  their  lips  forever  the  name  of  their 
erring  son,  they  left  the  old  Visonti  palace  to  be  inhab 
ited  by  tenants,  and  emigrated  to  America,  to  begin  a 
new  life  in  a  new  land. 

Singularly  enough,  fortune  took  a  turn  in  their  favor, 
and  from  some  excellent  investments  and  speculations, 
it  was  not  long  before  they  began  to  enjoy  something  of 
the  old  prosperity  and  luxury  of  their  ancient  state. 
Then  awoke  a  desire  to  have  some  representative  of 
their  name,  on  whom  to  bestow  their  later  gains.  Their 
urgent  offers  to  the  princess  to  pay  her  from  time  to 
time  sums  which  should  reimburse  her  for  her  financial 
loss,  had  always  been  steadily  refused.  'I  shall  outlive 
you  both,'  she  would  say  with  a  confident  smile,  'and 
then  you  may  make  a  provision  in  your  will.  Maybe 
through  such  an  act  your  Julian  may  even  at  a  late  day 
be  reclaimed  and  brought  to  a  noble  manhood,'  and  she 
would  smile  her  wise,  deep  smile  which  seemed  to  pro 
phesy  the  far  future  with  its  serene  power. 

A  beautiful  little  Italian  girl  was  accidentally  brought 
to  the  notice  of  Madame  Visonti,  when  in  the  rush  of 
Broadway,  the  carriage  wheels  almost  crushed  her,  — 
barely  escaping  with  a  slight  bruise.  The  little  one's 
screams  brought  to  her  side  an  organ-grinder,  who  had  sent 


242  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

her  across  the  street  on  her  perilous  errand  of  collecting 
pennies.  A  mere  baby  of  four  or  five  years,  her  extreme 
loveliness  attracted  the  most  marked  attention,  and  Ma 
dame  Visonti  at  once  felt  her  heart  beat  with  sympathy 
and  affection.  Without  ado,  she  told  the  father  that  she 
would  like  to  adopt  his  child,  and  as  he  did  not  demur, 
an  appointment  was  made  at  once.  The  result  was  that 
the  man  signed  papers  by  which  he  conveyed  Sybil,  his 
baby,  irrevocably  to  the  Visontis,  and  they  legally 
adopted  her  at  once,  bestowing  upon  her  their  name, 
and  as  we  are  all  aware,  their  devotion  and  protection." 

Ralfe  sat  white  and  motionless  on  hearing  the  latter 
part  of  this  narrative.  Slowly  he  said,  — 

"  She  is  not  a  Visouti  at  all,  then  ?  " 

"No,  and  not  of  noble  blood.  She  comes  of  the 
people  —  and  even  the  lower  class  of  people.  Her 
mother  died  at  her  birth.  She  was  a  peasant,  and  her 
family  had  all  been  peasants  before  her.  The  father 
was  a  native  of  Ravenna.  A  barber-shop  was  his  birth 
place  and  his  ancestry  were  of  the  same  calling.  I  am 
sorry,  but  it  is  the  simple  truth." 

"  Yet  she  is  so  proud,  so  intellectual,  so  refined/'  mur 
mured  Ralfe. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Signor  Zante.  "  Has  she  not  had 
every  possible  advantage  of  education  ?  Manner  may 
be  acquired.  Morals  are  of  deeper  and  more  frequently 
hereditary  origin.  Character  may  be  improved  upon, 
but  the  deep  passions  rooted  in  the  being,  control  the 
nature  after  all.  She  is  all  you  say  and  it  is  the  polish 
on  the  surface.  But  she  is  more,  and  the  stronger  part 
she  conceals." 

"  You  speak  as  if  she  were  all  evil,"  cried  Ralfe  in 
dignantly. 

"  How  can  you  suggest  it  ?  "  answered  Zante  quietly. 
"  No  one  is  all  evil.  But  do  not  let  us  stumble  here  — 


THE  LAST  OF   THE  RACE  243 

let  us  continue  the  story.  You  remember  that  the 
Visontis  were  well  known  to  your  uncle,  and  that  your 
wife  became  a  schoolmate  of  Sybil.  At  the  end  of  her 
convent  life  both  parents  died  within  a  few  months  of 
each  other,  and  Sybil  was  left  quite  alone  without  rela 
tives.  An  opportunity  to  travel  was  offered  by  a  trusted 
friend,  a  fashionable  widow,  and  Sybil  went  with  her 
abroad.  She  had  been  to  Venice  with  her  parents  once, 
when  a  child.  They  had  sold  the  old  Venetian  palace. 
It  was  not  long  before  by  a  strange  fatality  her  guardian 
fell  ill  and  died  also,  exposing  her  to  the  necessity  of 
self-control  and  self-protection,  —  for  she  had  no  one 
apparently,  to  whom  she  could  properly  go  for  a  home, 
unless  she  returned  at  once  to  her  home  in  America." 

"She  was  'the  only  Visonti  in  the  world,'  she  used  to 
say,"  murmured  Ralfe,  " '  the  last  of  the  race.'  " 

"It  is  almost  pitiful,"  said  Signor  Zante,  "to  have 
such  pride  debased.  But  she  had  already  found  a  pro 
tector." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Ralfe  leaping  up,  "  a  man  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  man,"  replied  Signor  Zante  with  a  sympa 
thetic  look.  "  She  had  met  Julian  Savelli." 

"  My  God  !  her  brother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  her  adopted  brother.  Whether  they  both,  or 
either,  knew  their  relationship  in  law,  I  cannot  tell,  — 
but  I  presume  without  doubt,  he  did,  while  she  did  not. 
In  any  case  she  became  deeply  attached  to  him,  and, 
—  I  dislike  to  tell  you,  —  she  became  his  "  — 

"  Do  not  say  another  word,"  groaned  Ralfe.  "  I  know 
what  you  are  about  to  say.  Her  child  is  in  this  house." 

It  was  now  Signor  Zante's  turn  to  look  up  with  aston 
ishment. 

"  She  told  you  ?  " 

"No.  I  was  told  this  morning.  She  has  shielded 
her  lover  by  accusing  me." 


244  SARDIA:   A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

Both  men  stood  niute  and  trembling  with  excitement. 
The  complication  of  affairs  was  astounding  to  each.  At 
this  moment  Helen  entered,  bearing  a  small  glass  of 
wine.  She  too  was  pale  with  excitement  and  sank  into 
a  large  chair,  taking  all  the  wine  with  a  single  breath. 

"  Is  she  very  ill  ?  "  the  men  exclaimed,  one  grasping 
a  fan  and  the  other  relieving  her  of  the  glass. 

Helen  burst  into  tears.  She  gave  one  appealing  glance 
to  Ralfe,  as  if  she  dreaded  to  tell  him  the  truth,  and 
then  said  in  a  low  voice,  — 

"  She  has  brain  fever.  She  is  raving  with  delirium,  — 
and  I  am  afraid  I  am  to  blame,  —  I  was  too  severe." 

They  looked  at  her  with  surprise  and  sympathy,  when 
Signer  Zante  patted  her  head  in  most  fatherly  fashion. 

"That  could  not  be,  my  child,"  he  said.  "Your 
severity  even,  would  be  kind." 

"  No  !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  rising  and  flashing  her  beau 
tiful  eyes  from  one  to  the  other  in  sudden  cold  hauteur, 
which  startled  them.  "  No  kindness,  simply  justice  re 
mained.  She  had  accused  my  husband  of  a  great  crime. 
I  punished  her  with  my  whole  wrath.  I  put  her  on 
probation." 

Signer  Zante  smiled. 

"  How  many  women  would  have  tempered  their  anger 
in  that  way  ?  " 

"You  did.not  believe  it  ?  "  cried  Ralfe  eagerly. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  half-deprecating,  half-appeal 
ing  expression. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  she  answered.     "  I  waited." 

"  I  cannot  think  your  severity  caused  her  fever,"  now 
remarked  Signer  Zante,  ignoring  this  little  scene  be 
tween  them.  "  There  must  have  been  a  terrible  pressure 
of  anxiety  on  her  mind  from  the  moment  she  discovered 
Savelli  to  be  Visonti.  But,  madam,  you  do  not  yet 
know  the  real  story  of  your  guest.  Let  us  tell  you." 


MADAME' S   JEWEL  245 

They  then  on  perceiving  her  growing  calmness,  rap 
idly  detailed  their  past  conversation.  Even  as  Ralfe 
had  been  amazed  and  overwhelmed  by  the  revelations, 
so  Helen  listened  with  a  changing  countenance,  full  of 
keenest  feeling.  As  Signor  Zante  came  again  to  the 
point  where  he  had  been  interrupted,  Ralfe  was  thrown 
into  a  state  of  agitation  almost  equal  to  that  of  Helen. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  he  exclaimed  wildly,  rising  and  pacing 
forward  and  back  with  rapid  strides.  "  Is  that  all  ? 
Go  on,  go  on,  signor,  I  wish  to  hear  the  end." 

Helen  ceased  weeping  and  watched  both  men  with  a 
strangely  dismayed  countenance. 

"  May  I  finish,  madam  ?  "  said  Signor  Zante,  noticing 
her  intense  pallor. 

"  Go  on  by  all  means ;  do  you  not  see  how  much  he 
suffers  ?  "  and  that  she  suffered  also  was  only  too  plainly 
visible. 

"  The  Princess  Menshikoff  knows  of  the  birth  of  her 
child,  because  Miss  Visonti  went  to  the  old  Visonti 
palace  when  her  condition  became  known  to  her.  By 
an  accident,  the  child  was  even  born  in  the  apartment 
of  the  princess,  who,  as  usual,  had  taken  rooms  there, 
during  her  stay  in  Venice.  That  dagger  was  in  her  hair 
when  she  was  borne  unconscious  into  the  bed-chamber, 
and  at  once  with  little  difficulty,  Madame  Menshikoff 
ascertained  the  name  and  station  of  her  unbidden  guest. 

Astonished  at  finding  her  own  jewel  in  the  possession 
of  a  stranger,  a  small  mark  on  some  of  the  linen,  which 
was  perfectly  well  known  as  a  part  of  the  Visonti  crest, 
to  their  old  friend,  easily  led  her  to  suppose  that  she 
must  be  the  adopted  daughter,  of  whom  she  had  often 
heard,  but  had  never  seen,  and  with  her  usual  wisdom, 
she  suspected  that  the  brother  and  sister  had  met,  since 
otherwise  it  would  have  been  too  strange  a  coincidence 
for  Sybil  to  possess  the  jewel.  Lending  her  own  maid 


246  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

to  the  unfortunate  girl,  it  was  her  design  to  take  Sybil 
under  her  protection  as  soon  as  she  could  properly 
announce  herself  as  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  when 
in  the  night  the  young  mother  with  the  rnaid  and  child, 
stole  away  without  so  much  as  an  acknowledgment  of 
her  care.  Subsequently  Madame  Menshikoff  ascertained 
all  that  I  have  previously  told  you,  and  has  always 
known  the  true  situation  of  affairs  from  the  time  she 
arrived  here,  called  by  the  counsel  of  the  Visonti  family 
to  be  present  on  the  final  opening  and  settlement  of  the 
will.  To-day,  you  remember,  is  the  twenty-third,  the  day 
appointed  when  Julian  Savelli  is  to  appear  in  New  York 
to  claim  his  estate  in  person.  To-day,  also,  then,  the 
Princess  Menshikoff  has  arrived  there,  to  meet  him  and 
to  secure  from  him  either  a  statement  of  where  the 
jewels  may  be  and  how  recovered,  or  to  obtain  the  sum 
set  apart  for  her  by  his  parents.  It  is  supposable  that 
he  will  be  there,  and  even  now,  the  matter  may  have 
been  adjusted." 

"  When  did  she  start  ?  "  asked  Helen  suddenly. 

"  Last  evening  by  the  midnight  train,"  answered 
Zante.  "  I  accompanied  her  to  the  depot." 

"  And  should  Yisonti  not  appear,  what  would  be  the 
result  ?  "  asked  Ralfe,  stopping  in  his  restless  walk. 

"  Sybil  would  be  sole  possessor  of  the  estate." 

"  He  shall  marry  her  !  "  cried  Ralfe  savagely.  "  He 
shall  marry  her,  by  God  ! " 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  a  faint  knock  at  the  door 
was  followed  by  a  slight  opening,  and  James,  hat  in 
hand,  red  in  the  face  and  covered  with  dust  appeared. 
Seeing  the  gentlemen  he  looked  dubiously  from  one  to 
the  other  until  Helen  said  quickly,  — 

"  Come  in  at  once  and  shut  the  door.  "Well,  what  have 
you  to  say  ?  " 

He  hesitated  and  looked  again  at  the  gentlemen. 


DANTIN  247 

" Speak,"  commanded  Ralfe,  "answer  your  mistress." 

"Madam  Helen/'  he  began,  "I  fear  3^011  will  be  very, 
very  angry,  ma'am,  but  I  could  not  do  as  you  ordered. 
The  French  lady  did  not  sail,  and  I  had  to  come  home 
without  doing  one  thing  you  told  me  to.  But  I'm  not 
to  blame,  ma'am,  I  did  my  best  a-persuadin'  and  a-per- 
suadin',  but  she  wouldn't  listen  to  me,  and  away  she  went." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  his  mistress  in 
surprise.  "  Where  did  she  go  ?  " 

"  Well,  ma'am,  the  Princess  Menshikoff  took  'er,  and 
told  her  as  how  she  must  go  with  her.  She  came  into 
the  train  just  after  I  got  her  seated,  ma'am,  and  in  a  min 
ute  the  Frenchwoman  she  give  a  scream  and  called  her 
something  in  her  houtlandish  landgwige,  and  first  I 
knowed,  I  was  bordered  hoff,  and  when  we  got  to  New 
York,  they  told  me  that  I  could  go  home,  as  I  wasn't 
wanted.  So  I  had  to  come,  Miss  Helen,  hi  never  was  so 
hagitated  hand  put  hout  in  all  my  life,  and  I  couldn't 
'elp  it,  ma'am,  I  certainly  couldn't." 

"Do  not  disturb  yourself,  James,"  said  Helen  quietly, 
"matters  have  come  up  since  you  left  which  make  it 
quite  as  well  that  the  Frenchwoman  should  remain  in 
this  country.  On  the  whole,  all  has  happened  for  the 
best.  You  may  go." 

"  What  Frenchwoman  ? "  asked  Ralfe,  the  moment 
James  had  disappeared. 

"I,  too,  have  a  sad  story  to  tell,"  answered  Helen. 
"While  you  were  all  gone  yesterday,  a  Frenchwoman  who 
called  herself  Dantin,  came  running  on  to  the  lawn  "  — 

"Why,  that  was  madame's  maid,"  exclaimed  Zante, 
"the  maid  who  ran  away  from  Venice  with  Miss  Vi- 
sonti." 

"  She  had  a  little  boy  with  her.  She  inquired  for 
Madame  Visonti  and  seemed  in  great  fear,  saying  she 
was  pursued.  She  said  a  man  was  trying  to  steal  the 


248  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

boy  and  had  followed  her  from  Paris  even  to  this  place. 
She  had  escaped  from  the  hotel  and  believed  he  was 
immediately  behind  her.  She  claimed  my  protection  as 
the  friend  of  Miss  Visonti.  I  took  her  at  once  to  my 
room,  and  there  ascertained  that  Miss  Visonti  was  a 
mother  —  but  whether  a  wife  the  woman  did  not  seem 
to  know.  I  kept  them  quietly  in  my  room  and  waited,  — 
all  day.  It  seemed  a  year.  On  Sybil's  arrival  I  brought 
them  face  to  face.  At  first  Miss  Visonti  denied  all 
knowledge  of  them,  but  finally  said  the  child's  name  was 
Ralfe,  —  his  father's  name.  I  then  spoke  with  intense 
anger  and  told  her  I  should  adopt  the  child  as  mine,  — 
that  she  certainly  could  not  claim  him,  and  that  if  he 
were  Kalfe's,  he  should  be  under  his  father's  protection. 
Upon  this  she  pleaded  so  earnestly  that  I  should  keep 
her  secret,  that  I  assured  her  I  would  do  the  very  best  I 
could  for  all  concerned,  while  she  was  to  be  silent  and 
wait.  I  saw  no  necessity  for  the  complication  of  an  un 
known  Frenchwoman  in  the  house,  so  sent  James  to 
New  York  with  her  last  night.  You  have  heard  the 
result." 

"But  the  man,"  exclaimed  Kalfe,  "the  man  in  pur 
suit  ?  Who  could  he  be  ?  Did  he  come  ?  Did  you  see 
him  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  It  was  Savelli  of  course,"  said  Signor  Zante,  "  it 
could  be  no  one  else.  He  doubtless  has  now  left  town 
and  gone  to  New  York.  Perhaps  he  went  by  the  same 
train  with  the  princess.  How  strange  !  " 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Ralfe,  with  suppressed  passion. 
"  We  shall  see." 


A  NOTE  249 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

AVENGED. 

"  Wherefore  let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth,  take  heed  lest  he 
fall." 

Corinthians. 

THE  words,  "  You  are  on  probation,"  had  scathed 
Sybil's  proud  heart  as  few  could.  As  she  slowly  left 
Helen's  apartment,  her  hatred  seemed  to  flame  from 
forehead  to  feet.  On  the  dressing-table  of  her  chamber 
were  quite  a  number  of  letters,  and  as  she  entered,  pale 
and  trembling  from  her  recent  interview,  she  took  them 
up  and  mechanically  read  them  over,  glancing  at  the 
handwriting  with  eyes  which  saw  not,  and  taking  in 
the  name  "  Miss  Sybil  Visonti  "  with  unheeding  mind. 
She  opened  none,  and  was  about  tc  drop  them  when  a 
note,  as  yet  unnoticed,  really  attracted  her  quickened 
attention. 

With  an  exclamation  she  tore  it  open  and  read  the 
signature  which  she  already  divined  would  be  there. 

I  am  arrived  and  must  see  you  at  once.  At  once,  I  say.  Do 
you  understand  ?  Leave  your  garden  at  nine  to-night,  and  walk 
on  the  narrow  path  above  the  cliff.  I  will  be  there. 

JULIAN  SAVELLI. 

"  Lordly  as  ever,"  she  murmured  with  a  low  proud 
laugh.  Then,  suddenly  struck  with  a  horrifying  remem 
brance  she  shuddered  and  thought,  "  Why  should  he  not 
be  ?  A  Visonti !  "  Writh  what  a  maddening  mixture 
of  emotions  had  the  thought  of  his  name  rilled  her  since 


250  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

that  dreadful  night  when  Signer  Zante  had  so  uncon 
sciously  struck  his  deadly  blow. 

"  Was  it  unconscious  ? "  she  suddenly  cried  out  to 
herself.  Did  he,  did  not  the  princess  know  ?  Was 
it  not  a  bitter,  a  fiendish  revenge,  following  naturally 
the  warning  of  madame  ?  How  many  now,  knew  the 
secret  of  her  past !  How  many,  openly  and  secretly, 
were  leagued  together  to  expose  it  to  the  world  and 
cover  her  with  shame  !  But  who,  who  knew  what  she 
knew — the  most  appalling  secret  of  all  —  the  father 
hood  of  that  child !  She  seemed  enmeshed  in  a  very 
tangle  of  fatal  forces,  which  she  could  neither  compre 
hend  nor  control.  Yet  with  a  few  moments'  intent 
study  of  the  present  situation,  with  a  rebound  from  the 
crushing  sensation  of  Helen's  scorn  and  the  certainty 
of  ultimate  disclosure,  she  quietly  resumed  her  usual 
diplomacy  and  proceeded  to  dress. 

Every  movement  of  that  elaborate  toilette  was  one  of 
subtle  meaning.  Her  plastic  body,  trained  by  long  habit 
to  interpret  every  thought  of  her  mind,  seemed  speechful 
even  to  herself,  as  she  caught  a  sudden  gesture  in  the  mir 
ror  and  read  it  like  an  exclamation.  The  cheek  burning 
with  a  deep  red  glow  beneath  the  determined,  set  eyes  ; 
the  teeth  strongly  shutting  upon  each  other  until  the 
lips  were  pursed  into  a  chiselled  firmness  ;  the  grand 
globes  of  the  lace-shielded  breast  heaving  slowly,  but 
with  wonderful  underthrobs  of  the  heart  Avhich  bounded 
with  her  busy,  teeming  brain,  and  shook  her  of  its  own 
deep  beating;  the  limbs  which  moved  more  and  more 
majestically  from  point  to  point,  as  with  a  rounded  plan 
and  purpose  she  steadily  approached  the  moment  when 
she  should  begin  her  last  play  in  the  miserable  game, 
were  a  language  unuttered  and  unutterable,  for  they 
each  contained  a  volume. 

Kobing   herself    in   a   silken   gauze-like    gray    gown, 


THE   TURRET  ROOM  251 

touched  here  and  there  with  splashes  of  scarlet,  and 
thrusting  a  keen-bladed  dagger  through  her  hair,  its 
tiny  hilt  covered  with  rubies  like  drops  of  blood,  she 
at  last  descended  the  long  staircase  —  a  magnificent 
mass  of  flame  and  smoke,  as  if  she  had  arisen  from  the 
very  gulf  of  Hades.  She  entered  the  drawing-room  as 
lightly  as  if  a  smoke-wreath  had  stolen  through  the 
doors,  but  the  soft  lights  deepened  her  crimson,  flutter 
ing,  waving  ribbons  into  a  fiery  glow.  Eveii  Sardia 
involuntarily  gave  a  soft  cry  of  admiration. 

ISTo  incident  marred  the  charm  of  that,  dreaded  dinner. 
Half  weary  from  the  exertions  of  their  pleasure  trip, 
conversation  was  carried  OR  in  a  desultory  fashion,  and 
after  coffee  some  sat  down  to  a  quiet  game  of  cards, 
some  lolled  in  the  luxurious  smoking-room,  while  Lulu 
softly  played  for  Guy,  whose  constant  attendance  had 
of  late  renewed  the  roses  in  those  too  pale  cheeks  and 
revived  the  brilliant  spirits  so  strangely  clouded  over. 

"  I  love  my  little  room  up  in  the  turret  all  alone,"  she 
murmured  innocently  over  the  keys.  "  Helen  changed 
the  furniture  on  purpose  for  me.  It  was  a  surprise.  It 
seems  she  wished  me  to  room  with  Sybil  for  a  while, 
just  to  make  all  the  delightful  decorations  to  suit  my 
own  taste  !  And  it  is  such  a  sweet  room,  Guy  !  I  can 
see  the  stars  as  if  I  were  in  the  sky  myself,  and  some 
way,  since  I  went  up  there,  my  thoughts  have  seemed 
to  change.  Mornings  I  wake  so  fresh  and  happy,  be 
cause  the  sun  creeps  through  the  soft  blue  draperies,  as 
if  through  a  tender  mist ;  and  then  at  night,  I  feel  God 
very  near,  His  moon  peeps  in  so,  and  I  pray  and  forget 
all  trouble." 

"  Trouble,  little  one  ? "  answered  Guy  wistfully,  "what 
trouble  can  you  have,  dear  heart  ?  " 

"That  is  just  it,"  said  Lulu  with  a  puzzled,  weary  air, 
"  I  don't  know  what  it  was,  but  when  I  was  down-stairs 


252  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

I  felt  sad,  and  wicked."  And  she  gave  a  quick  little 
crashing  chord  on  the  piano  and  rose. 

Guy  followed  her  to  a  great  cushioned  window  and 
began  to  talk  of  the  future.  Soon  a  sunny  smile  chased 
away  the  fleeting  frown  and  she  was  coquetting  with 
him  as  sweetly  as  he  could  wish. 

"  How  happy  papa  and  mamma  look ! "  said  she, 
glancing  at  the  whist-table  where  they  Avere  seated. 
"  Was  it  not  kind  of  Helen  to  invite  them  here  to  spend 
this  last  week  ?  You  know  she  never  met  them,  as  I 
came  with  her  simply  as  her  bride's-maid.  How  strange 
that  she  should  have  selected  me,  Guy  !  But  I  am 
sure  she  knew  how  truly  I  loved  her,  —  how  happy  it 
would  make  me !  And  to  think  to-morrow  will  be  the 
last  day  of  our  visit !  "  she  ran  on.  "  Don't  you  hate 
to  go,  dear  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  a  soft  cloud  fleeting  over  his 
kind  face.  "  But  most  because  I  am  sure  we  leave  poor 
Helen  unhappy.  I  had  thought  the  season  would  end 
with  a  happy  denoument  —  the  villain  brought  to  justice 
and  the  lovers  united  —  but  we  must  leave  everything 
in  a  muddle,  it  seems." 

"  Foolish  Kalfe  !  "  sighed  Lulu. 

Wrapping  a  soft  shawl  about  her  shoulders  Sybil  had 
stolen  unperceived  down  the  garden  walk  and  out  along 
the  cliff.  At  the  point  where  the  great  rock  guarded 
the  little  cave  so  familiar  to  her,  she  saw  standing 
awaiting  her  the  man  who  was  her  love,  her  curse,  her 
fate,  and  so  much  more,  that  a  sudden  faintness  almost 
overpowered  her  as  she  felt  the  touch  of  his  hand. 

"Come  in  here,  out  of  sight,"  he  said  gently,  leading 
the  way  into  the  rift  of  the  rocks  so  often  used  by 
lovers  as  a  happy  trysting  place.  "  Sybil,  it  is  long 
since  we  met." 

"  You  missed  me  then  ?  " 


THE  LAST  VISONTI  253 

"  Enough  to  follow  you." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  answered  with  slow  scorn.  "  Do  not 
utter  any  more  falsehoods.  You  came  for  a  fortune." 

"  And  my  child,"  he.  said  distinctly. 

"Our  child,"  answered  Sybil. 

"  We  shall  see  about  that,"  said  Savelli  roughly. 

"  Julian,  Julian,  my  God,  what  can  you  mean  !  Not 
our  child  ?  Not  mine  ?  Are  you  mad  ?  Do  you  know 
who  you  are  and  who  I  am  and  who  he  is  ?  What  have 
you  come  to  do  ?  How  can  our  secret  be  hidden  ?  "  and 
she  dropped  on  to  a  rock,  clasping  her  hands  in  an  agony 
of  suspense. 

"  Why,  simply  give  up  my  boy  to  me,  and  I  will  hide 
the  secret  fast  enough.  You  have  Ealph  on  hand, 
haven't  you  ?  The  child  would  be  inconvenient." 

"  Are  you  a  fiend  ?  " 

"No,  I  am  a  Visonti." 

Sybil  rose  and  put  both  hands  on  his  shoulders,  hold 
ing  her  blazing  eyes  close  to  his  own.  "And  my 
brother,"  she  uttered  in  a  blended  sigh  and  hiss  which 
seemed  to  be  the  escape  of  her  very  soul. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Julian  cheerfully,  "  nothing  of 
the  kind." 

Sybil  sank  back  on  the  rock  as  if  stunned.  Her  face 
was  gray  against  the  dark  rock,  and  the  dim  light  from 
the  sickle-moon  but  gave  it  a  deadlier  cast. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  went  on  Savelli,  flipping  a  bit  of  ash  from 
his  cigar,  "  I  am  not  so  bad  as  that,  my  dear.  If  I  had 
truly  had  a  sister,  maybe  I  should  have  been  worthy  the 
old  name.  You  have  been  awfully  proud  of  the  old  name, 
haven't  you,  Sybil  ?  I  never  could  bring  myself  to  dis 
illusion  you,  and  I  never  would  have  done  it  if  I  had 
not  become  heir  to  the  property.  But  you  see  /  must 
take  it  now,  and  spoil  your  pretty  pride  in  being  'the 
last  Visonti  of  the  race.'  My  boy  is  the  last  Visonti 
now,  and  a  very  clever  little  chap  he  is." 


254  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  And  who  is  his  mother  ? "  asked  Sybil  in  a  tone 
whose  indifference  seemed  the  apathy  of  death. 

"  Oh,  you  !  what  ?  by  blood  or  adoption  ?  By  blood 
you  are  some  obscure  person's  daughter,  no  doubt ;  by 
adoption  you  are  legally  a  Visonti,  —  my  adopted  sister." 

"  Did  you  know  this  when  you  met  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  couldn't  help  it,  you  know.  But  you  told 
me  the  old  people  only  left  you  a  paltry  sum,  the  income 
of  which  was  just  enough  to  keep  body  and  soul 
together  in  these  days,  and  I  fancied  it  was  no  use 
saying  anything.  You  see  you  were  not  a  Visonti,  and 
you  were  devilish  handsome  and  fascinating.  They 
were  dead,  and  what  harm  could  it  do  ?  " 

"What  harm  could  it  do?"  repeated  the  dazed  woman, 
looking  at  him  in  despair.  "  What  harm  could  it  do  ?  " 

"Why  do  you  sit  there  repeating  my  words  like  a 
parrot  ?  Why  don't  you  say  where  the  boy  is,  and  when 
I  may  have  him  ?  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  me  ?  "  said  Sybil,  suddenly 
rising  and  standing  in  an  attitude  which  suggested  the 
panther. 

Julian  laughed  a  little,  half-inaudibly.  "A  Visonti 
doesn't  marry  that  kind,"  he  answered  in  a  low  tone. 

Quicker  than  a  flash  of  light,  the  jewelled  dagger  with 
its  keen,  keen  point  had  cut  a  curve  of  silver  in  the 
darkness.  Quicker  than  the  sword-thrust  of  an  expert, 
it  had  struck  home ;  straight  through  that  cold,  false 
heart.  Savelli  with  a  smothered  shriek  fell  backwards 
and  down.  The  tide  was  nearly  high,  and  the  water 
deep.  Sybil  stood  with  the  little  blade  poised  in  her 
hand.  It  did  not  drip  with  blood.  There  was  but  a 
slight  stain  upon  it.  She  listened  breathless.  There 
was  not  a  sound.  With  a  great  sigh  she  slowly  moved 
away,  on,  up,  over  the  rugged  pathway,  stooping  when 
she  reached  a  little  mound  of  earth,  and  thrusting  the 


A  LIVING   HU^IAN  HEART  255 

dagger  in  and  out,  in  and  out,  until  it  glittered  in  the 
scanty  moonlight  like  an  icicle.  Back  in  her  dark  locks 
again,  who  dreamed,  as  she  softly  crossed  the  garden, 
what  its  home  had  been  for  one  brief  instant,  —  a  living 
human  heart  ? 

She  sped  up  to  her  room  unnoticed,  and  grasping  the 
little  note,  burned  it  in  the  gas-jet  to  ashes.  Then, 
looking  out  of  her  casement  on  to  the  gloaming  sea, 
whose  waves  would  soon  be  on  the  ebb,  she  said  under 
her  breath,  "  You  will  not  claim  the  Visonti  estates  in 
person  on  the  twenty -third,"  and  sank  softly  to  the  floor 
in  a  death-like  swoon. 


256  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

GOOD-BY. 

"As  travellers  oft  look  back  at  eve, 

When  eastward  darkly  going, 
To  gaze  upon  that  light  they  leave 

Still  faint  behind  them  glowing,  — 
So,  when  the  close  of  pleasure's  day 
To  gloom  hath  near  consigned  us, 
We  turn  to  catch  one  fading  ray 
Of  joy  that's  left  behind  us." 

Thomas  Moore. 

SIGNOR  ZANTE,  after  their  trying  interview,  having 
taken  his  departure,  saying  that  nothing  could  be  done 
until  the  Princess  Menshikoff's  return,  the  house  fell 
into  that  strange,  waiting  silence  which  always  accom 
panies  sudden  and  dangerous  illness. 

Fortunately  it  had  been  planned  that  the  few  remain 
ing  guests  should  spend  the  day  fishing  in  Sardia's 
yacht,  that  the  preliminary  arrangements  for  leaving 
the  villa  for  the  season  might  more  easily  be  made. 

The  engagement  of  Lulu  with  Guy  Thorne  had  drawn 
her  father  and  mother  to  Spray  View,  and  another 
engagement,  which  had  not  been  formally  announced, 
but  which  was  tacitly  understood  between  Charlie  Vane 
and  sweet,  quiet  Jo  Millard,  had  netted  all  the  friends 
in  a  mesh  of  sympathy  and  pleasure  which  Sardia  had 
delighted  to  enhance. 

The  advent  of  two  trained  nurses,  the  coming  and 
going  of  two  physicians,  added  to  the  whispered  suspense 


THE   END   OF  SUMMER  257 

and  awe  of  the  servants,  made  a  dreary  day  in  the  hith 
erto  cheerful  mansion.  The  occasional  cries  and  moans, 
which  issued  from  the  sickroom,  the  sudden  and  terrible 
bursts  of  auger  followed  by  still  more  sudden  silences, 
as  of  horror,  filled  all  hearts  with  pity  for  the  woman 
whose  beauty  and  grace  had  ever  swayed  her  associates 
with  bewitching  charm. 

The  sight  of  Helen  seemed  to  aggravate  the  intensity 
of  Sybil's  delirium,  and  she  was  forced  to  leave  the 
room,  much  as  she  desired  in  any  way  to  soothe  and  calm 
her.  Kalfe  had  hurriedly  driven  off  immediately  after 
Signor  Zante,  and  the  little  boy,  taken  by  his  new  nurse 
to  the  beach,  no  longer  filled  the  halls  with  his  childish 
chatter.  To-day  it  had  been  arranged  to  break  up  the 
whole  party.  The  end  of  their  happy  summer  had 
come.  Already  many  of  their  friends  had  flitted  to  one 
of  those  interior  towns,  where  they  would  prolong  their 
fashionable  gayeties  far  into  the  autumn.  The  wedding, 
which  might  prove  a  double  one,  of  Lulu  and  Guy,  would 
take  place  at  the  bright  Christmas  season,  and  it  was 
hoped  that  many  would  then  be  reunited  under  the 
holly. 

Helen  had  decided  to  go  up  to  the  old  farm,  the 
homestead  of  that  uncle  whose  liberality  to  herself  and 
Ralfe  had  endeared  to  them  every  spot  he  had  ever 
loved.  The  Princess  Menshikoff  also,  who  had  simply 
waited  for  this  da}',  had  long  been  eager  to  return  to  her 
beloved  India,  accompanied  by  Signor  Zante,  and,  as  she 
hoped,  by  Sardia.  Her  whole  influence  had  long  been 
brought  to  bear  upon  him,  to  convert  him  to  that  mag 
nificent  scheme  of  the  revival  of  the  ancient  wisdom 
religion,  which  she  believed  would  be  the  salvation  of 
modern  India. 

"  They  will  never  embrace  Christianity,"  she  argued ; 
"  let  us  give  them  back  in  its  purity,  its  truth,  its  noble- 


258  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

ness,  the  original,  untainted  religion  of  the  Light  of 
Asia." 

To  him,  now,  any  part  or  place  in  the  world  was 
indifferent.  Sardia's  soul  was  filled  with  its  hopeless 
love.  His  immense  Avealth  was  useless  to  bring  him 
true  pleasure.  His  culture,  his  taste,  his  manhood, 
might  as  well  be  given  to  his  fellow-man  in  India  as  in 
any  other  country.  "  I  must  live  my  life,"  he  would 
sigh,  thinking  with  painful  intensity  of  his  utter  loneli 
ness,  "  and  not  as  a  coward,  but  as  a  man.  It  shall  be  a 
life  that  shall  praise  her.  She  shall  feel  that  I  have 
lived  it  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  the  memory  of  her." 

But  not  until  he  saw  her  happy, — not  until  Ralfe 
stood  "awakened  and  repentant  by  her  side,  could  he 
endure  the  thought  of  leaving  her  to  bear  in  silence  a 
grief  that  matched  his  own,  and  which  was  aggravated 
by  the  continual  agony  of  seeing  her  love  ignored  for 
the  capricious  fascinations  of  another. 

The  intimacy  of  thought  between  him  and  the  vener 
able  princess  had  ever  been  that  of  a  genuine  comrade 
ship.  She  read  his  heart  with  the  ease  of  a  mother,  the 
tender  sympathy  of  a  loyal  friend.  Not  until  yesterday, 
however,  had  she  deemed  it  wise  to  detail  to  him  the 
full  story  as  she  had  ascertained  it  of  Sybil  Visonti's 
life.  Before  her  departure  to  the  train,  she  had  called 
him  into  her  curious  boudoir  and  given  him  the  details 
of  that  episode  which  had  culminated  in  the  belief  of 
the  illegitimate  union  between  the  adopted  brother  and 
sister.  "  Say  nothing  ! "  she  exclaimed,  rapidly  giving 
the  facts.  "  I  have  always  promised  you,  have  I  not,  to 
make  your  Helen  happy  ?  I  have  bided  my  time,  but  I 
will  not  spare.  Julian  shall  marry  Sybil ;  their  child 
shall  inherit  the  estate,  or  the  disgrace  of  that  early 
crime  shall  blast  him  on  the  very  threshold  of  happi 
ness.  Do  you  think,  then,  that  Ralfe  will  be  still  infat- 


ABNEGATION  259 

uated  ?  Or  will  he  recognize  in  all  its  fairness  and 
generosity,  the  character  of  the  wife  who  loves 
him  ?  " 

She  went  to  the  train,  leaving  Sardia  in  a  singular 
state  of  melancholy. 

"  My  desire  will  be  gratified,  —  she  will  be  blessed. 
But  my  desire,  my  desire  !  never  will  it  be  mine,  never 
in  all  the  world !  " 

With  gracious  courtesy  he  had  joined  her  guests  in 
the  early  morning,  and  taken  them  for  their  day  of 
pleasure  with  courtly  kindness.  With  knightly  grace 
he  had  sent  her  a  message  of  good-by,  at  the  very 
moment  when  with  angry  words  on  his  lips  and  a  flame 
of  passion  in  his  heart,  Ralfe  had  suddenly  stood  con 
victed  of  the  true  love  of  his  life. 

His  yacht  had  hardly  spread  her  white  sails  to  speed 
along  the  glittering  waters  of  the  bay  before  the  desire 
of  his  soul  had  been  answered  in  a  flood  of  purest  joy  in 
hers,  while  the  last  ray  of  hope,  which  might  have 
brightened  the  horizon  of  his  future,  faded  out  into 
clouds  and  darkness.  But  not  in  vain  are  such  loves 
given  and  renounced.  Abnegation,  who  goeth  in  sack 
cloth  and  ashes  on  earth,  hath  in  Heaven  seamless  gar 
ments,  white  as  no  fuller  can  white  them. 

The  return  of  the  gay  party  at  evening  was  saddened 
by  the  news  of  Sybil's  illness.  They  had  not  particu 
larly  noticed  her  absence  from  breakfast,  as  she  often 
indulged  in  very  late  hours,  her  hostess  never  failing  to 
have  her  served  with  some  dainty,  when  at  last  she 
came,  elaborately  dressed  and  imperially  smiling','  into 
the  breakfast-room.  The  evening  thus  somewhat 
clouded  by  anxiety,  and  the  soft  shadows  which  inevi 
tably  fall  upon  the  ending  of  any  joy,  although  we  are 
sure  it  will  soon  be  renewed,  was  spent  in  quiet  talk,  the 
lights  turned  low,  and  the  conversation  full  of  reminis- 


260  SARDIA:  A  ST0RY  OF  LOVE 

cences  of  this  or  that  hour  which  had  been  spent  in 
agreeable  diversion  or  pleasanter  repose. 

"  We  can  never  forget  any  part  of  it,  dear,"  said  Lulu, 
clasping  Helen's  hand  with  her  little  fingers.  "  We  owe 
you  and  Ralfe  a  halcyon  summer,  —  a  dream  of  para 
dise." 

"May  I  say  also,  how  deeply  indebted  I  am  to  you 
for  so  delightful  a  season  ?  "  queried  Guy,  joining  the 
two,  and  clasping  both  hands  in  his.  "I  think  none  of 
your  friends  will  ever  count  in  all  their  lives  a  happier 
visit. " 

The  others  joined  them  in  expressions  of  genial 
thanks,  and  urgent  invitations  were  offered  to  homes 
which  would  always  be  open  for  their  welcome. 

"Of  course  we  cannot  go  with  you  to-morrow,"  said 
Ealfe  in  a  quiet  tone.  "We  may  be  delayed  indefinitely. 
Sardia,  you  have  no  engagement,  have  you  ?  You  do 
not  mean  to  rush  off  to  India  at  once,  do  you  ?  I  know 
it  will  be  a  dull  house  here  now,  —  but  could  you  not 
stay  with  us  a  little  longer  ?  I  shall  feel  lost  without 
any  of  our  old  friends.  Helen,  ask  him  to  stay." 

"  It  would  give  me  infinite  pleasure,"  she  answered, 
looking  truthfully  into  his  eager  eyes.  "  I  fear  it  will 
seem  very  lonely  and  quiet,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
mind  it ;  for  if  you  can  help  any  one,  you  always  forget 
yourself." 

The  color  flushed  his  face  gently  as  he  turned  to 
Ralfe.  "  I  will  stay  with  pleasure,  if  I  can  deserve  so 
kind  a  compliment.  Signer  Zante  and  madame  do  not 
sail  until  next  month.  They  have  decided  to  go  in  iny 
yacht,"  he  said  modestly. 

"  To  India !  "  exclaimed  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"Why  not  ?  "  with  a  smile,  "she  has  been  around  the 
world." 

"  And  do  you  go  too  ?  "  said  Lulu  tearfully,  her  pretty 


"PARTING   IS   SUCH  SWEET  SORROW"          261 

face  clouded  with  real  sorrow.  "  Shall  you  not  stay  for 
my  —  for  our  "  — 

"  For  your  wedding,  little  one  ?  I  can  only  send  you 
my  blessing  across  the  waves.  I  shall  go  too." 

The  pouting  lip  curled  into  the  innocent  lines  of 
childish  grief,  and  the  quick  tears  fell  at  once  from  her 
limpid  eyes.  She  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  could  be 
heard  sobbing  as  she  climbed  the  stairs.  Sardia  was 
her  girlish  ideal.  Not  her  love,  not  her  joy ;  but  the 
grave,  grand  gentleman  who  had  won  her  supreme 
respect  and  reverence  and  admiration.  The  beautiful 
feeling  which  her  tears  represented  was  shared  by  every 
one  Avhose  hand  he  had  grasped,  whose  life  he  had  daily 
touched  with  some  delicate  attention,  or  lifted  by  some 
noble  thought.  The  silence  which  followed  Lulu's  steps 
was  throbbing  with  a  responsive  sympathy,  which  drew 
them  around  him  in  a  saddened  group. 

After  some  further  conversation,  there  was  a  general 
movement  towards  their  rooms. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  said  Charlie  Vane,  "  I  believe  I 
will  bid  you  all  good-by  to-night.  I  go  very  early,  and 
some  way,  I  dislike  to  say  'farewell'  at  the  last  mo 
ment." 

"Yes,  let  us  all  say  good-by  now,"  they  exclaimed 
softly,  standing  in  the  broad  hall,  while  Helen,  Ralfe, 
and  Sardia  formed  an  accidental  group  against  the 
velvet  portiere,  "we  shall  remember  it  all  so  pleas 
antly, —  your  faces  like  a  portrait-painting  against  that 
background.  Good-night,  good-night,  we  will  not  say 
good-by.  Heaven  bless  and  keep  you."  And  one  by 
one  they  stole  up-stairs,  each  turning  friendly  and  lov 
ing  faces  down  upon  the  fair  uplifted  heads  and  answer 
ing  eyes  that  watched  them  on  their  way. 


262  SARDIA:    A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

AVOWALS. 

"  It  is  not  meet  for  thee  to  voice 
Thy  impotent  longings  to  the  skies, 
And  vaunt  thy  feeble  sacrifice 
As  if  thy  fate  had  been  thy  choice. 
Thy  duty  deep  in  silence  lies; 
Thou  hadst  thy  will,  thou  payest  the  price; 
Thou  mayst  remember,  not  rejoice." 

Charles  G.  Whiting. 

"  I  AM  very  glad  you  invited  me  to  remain,"  said  Sar- 
dia  the  following  day.  "  I  have  long  sought  an  oppor 
tunity  to  speak  with  you  on  a  subject  very  near  to  me." 

The  great  house  had  sunk  into  seeming  slumber.  Al 
though  open  and  sunny,  although  garnished  as  usual 
with  flowers  and  in  that  exquisite  order  which  ever 
pervaded  its  refined  atmosphere,  it  seemed  lonely  and 
dreary.  No  gay  voices  laughed  and  chattered  from  room 
to  room.  There  was  no  swish  of  silken  skirts,  no  odor 
of  cigars  just  lighted,  no  manly  whistles  resounding 
in  the  bed-chambers.  Occasionally  a  sound  of  cries  or 
angry  remonstrance  came  from  the  direction  of  Miss 
Visonti's  room,  where  she  lay  in  dangerous  delirium, 
attended  by  her  two  nurses  and  the  frequent  calls  of  her 
physicians.  The  little  boy  had  made  an  hour's  divertise- 
ment  in  the  morning  before  he  had  been  taken  to  the 
beach,  but  now,  Helen,  weary  with  excitement,  had  re 
tired  to  her  room. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sardia,  repeating  his  remark  a  little  louder 


A  CONFESSION  263 

since  Ealfe  seemed  absorbed  in  thought  and  did  not 
answer,  "I  am  glad  you  asked  me  to  remain." 

"  Anything  particular  ?  "  said  his  host  looking  up 
with  that  dazed  aspect  which  brings  people  back  from 
wool-gathering. 

"Yes,"  said  Sardia,  "very  particular." 

"  AVell  ?  "  courteously  and  with  now  awakened  in 
terest. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  about  the  woman  I  love." 

"A  confession  ?  "  smiling  with  a  kind  of  pain  in  it. 

"A  confession  of  what  you  already  know,"  replied  his 
friend,  coining  nearer  and  seating  himself  quite  in  front 
of  Ralfe.  "  I  love  your  wife." 

The  expressions  of  anger,  amazement  and  amusement 
struggling  in  Ralfe's  countenance  would  be  the  despair 
of  a  painter. 

"  I  am  charmed,"  he  finally  uttered,  with  his  sarcastic 
soft  air. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Sardia,  coolly  and  slowly,  "I  have 
loved  her  from  the  moment  I  first  saw  her  at  your 
uncle's  house,  the  year  he  sent  you  to  Europe  and  took 
her  home  to  him.  She  was  only  thirteen,  and  I  was 
twenty-four  —  but  I  loved  her  —  and  I  love  her  now." 

"  Why  didn't  you  try  to  win  her  ?  "  asked  Ralfe,  a 
dull  red  mantling  his  countenance,  and  a  dull  glow 
creeping  into  his  eyes. 

"  When  your  uncle  died,  you  remember,  you  and  I 
were  doing  the  Pyramids.  You  told  me  of  the  terms  of 
your  uncle's  will.  To  save  your  fortune,  it  was  neces 
sary  you  should  marry  her.  On  the  very  night  you  told 
me  of  this  situation  of  your  affairs,  I  intended  to  tell 
you  of  my  love.  I  meant  to  ask  your  permission  to 
address  Miss  Gray,  as  you  had  really  stood  nearest  to 
her  uncle  and  would  be  his  heir.  But  of  course,  when 
you  informed  me  that  you  had  been  selected  for  her 
husband,  1  kept  silence." 


264  SARDIA:  A   STORY  OF   LOVE 

"  Sardia !  "  exclaimed  Ralfe,  grasping  his  hand,  "  can 
this  be  possible  ?  " 

"  It  is  true,"  he  answered  simply.  "  I  thought,"  he 
continued  in  a  low,  retrospective  tone,  "that  perhaps 
you  would  not  comply  with  the  terms  of  the  will.  I 
thought  that  perhaps  when  you  met,  you  would  not  love 
each  other.  But  I  could  not  interfere  between  you.  I 
kept  away,  —  waiting,  hoping;  yes,  longing  to  hear  that 
you  had  mutually,  or  one  of  you,  had  refused  to  be  gov 
erned  by  a  dead  will,  —  but  I  heard  of  your  marriage. 
You  invited  me  to  come.  Why  should  I  refuse  ?  I 
longed  at  least  to  see  her,  for  I  loved  her.  When  I  saw 
you,  —  when  I  saw  Miss  Visonti,  I  knew  I  had  not  come 
in  vain.  You  did  not  care  for  Helen,  —  she  was  your 
wife  but  in  name.  Your  heart  was  bound  up  in  that 
woman  up-stairs  there.  Helen  had  been  deceived." 

The  growing  sternness  of  his  voice  and  features,  the 
bitter  contempt  which,  modulated  by  the  ever-present 
grace  and  courtesy  of  the  man,  only  shaded  his  tones 
with  anger,  struck  Ralfe's  easily  touched  nature  with 
keenest  blows. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  cried,  — 

"  You  insult  me." 

"No,  I  only  tell  you  the  truth." 

"And  have  }'ou  told  Mrs.  Fielding  'the  truth'  like 
wise  ?  Have  you  told  her  you  loved  her  ?  "  giving  him 
a  terrible  look. 

"I  am  human,"  said  Sardia.  "I  could  not  see  this 
noble,  generous,  beautiful  woman,  this  heart  of  heaven 
neglected,  ignored,  insulted,  without  pouring  out  my 
whole  soul  at  her  feet.  Yes,"  said  he  rising  and  stand 
ing  in  all  the  dignity  of  his  pure  purpose,  "  I  told  her  I 
loved  her.  I  told  her  that  my  only  wish  was  to  make 
her  happy;  my  only  desire  to  see  her  where  sorrow 
could  never  again  reach  her;  where  she  might  forever 
lean  upon  the  faithful  breast  of  her  husband." 


A  DIVORCE  265 

During  these  words  Ralfe  became  half  frenzied. 

"  By  God !  Sardia,  be  careful.  I  believe  I  shall  kill 
you  if  you  say  another  word." 

Sardia  waited  a  moment,  still  looking  into  the  quiv 
ering  face  before  him  with  his  strong,  fearless  gaze. 

"  She  offers  you  a  divorce,"  he  said. 

Kalfe  started  as  if  a  rifle-ball  had  struck  him.  He 
looked  at  his  guest  with  wide,  frightened  eyes,  as  if  he 
saw  a  pit  beneath  his  feet. 

"  A  divorce  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  Have  you  not  desired  it  ?  Have  you  not  planned 
for  it  ?  "  said  Sardia  sternly. 

With  a  low  cry,  Ralfe  flung  his  arms  into  the  air. 

"  Great  Heaven  !     Yes,"  said  he. 

He  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  arms. 
Sardia  resumed  his  seat,  and  in  his  usual  calm  tones 
continued,  — 

"  When  I  told  your  wife  of  my  love,  and  offered  her 
rny  whole  being  for  her  happiness,  I  knew  she  loved 
you.  Every  action,  every  look,  had  told  me,  over  and 
again,  of  her  deep,  abiding,  wonderful,  silent  passion.  I 
hoped  for  nothing,  I  asked  for  nothing  but  to  serve  her. 
In  the  mutual  sympathy  which  arose  from  this  confes 
sion,  she  told  me  that  she  too  had  given  her  very  soul 
away,  and  to  you.  Then,  when  her  beautiful  eyes  wept 
such  tears  as  would  blot  out  the  sins  of  the  meanest 
creature,  she  asked  me  if  she  could  not  in  some  way 
give  you  your  desire. 

"  *  What  is  my  anguish  ?  '  she  said,  '  if  I  can  only  give 
him  the  joy  he  craves.  If  I  suffer,  what  must  he  suffer, 
with  this  beautiful  woman  whom  he  loves  beside  him, 
yet  with  a  barrier  of  iron  between  them  ?  Oh,  I  am  to 
blame,  to  blame.  I  should  have  seen  he  did  not  love 
me,  and  have  guessed  he  loved  another.  I  found  it  out 
the  first  night  of  our  marriage,  when  I  inadvertently 


266  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

overheard  a  few  sentences  spoken  to  Guy  Thome.  From 
that  moment  I  have  wished  to  do  this.  If  Sybil  is 
worthy  of  Kalfe,  and  their  love  is  a  noble  and  lasting 
one,  I  wish  them  to  belong  to  each  other.  I  wish  to 
annul  this  marriage,  which  to  him  is  a  horrible  bondage, 
and  placing  her  hand  in  his,  wish  them  God's  blessing, 
and  then  go  away  somewhere  —  and  die.'  " 

A  silence  followed  only  broken  by  the  soft  wind  blow 
ing  the  leaves.  Then  Kalfe  looked  up. 

"  Sardia,"  he  said  humbly,  looking  at  his  friend  with 
entreating  eyes.  "  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  Will  you 
take  my  hand  ?  How  loyal  you  are.  Let  me  tell  you. 
Your  soul  will  comprehend  it.  Yesterday,  in  the  very 
midst  of  angry  revelations  about  Miss  Visonti,  I  looked 
into  Helen's  face.  Do  you  remember  the  conversion  of 
Saul  recorded  in  the  Bible  ?  A  great  light  came  out  of 
the  sky,  and  he  saw  his  Lord  and  Master  in  its  shining. 
Sardia,  in  Helen's  face,  I  saw  a  light  which  drew  me 
into  heaven.  My  spirit  grew  clear-eyed  under  a  seeming 
sun  of  flooding  light.  With  a  joy  unspeakable  I  felt 
my  spirit  mingle  with  hers.  Old  things  were  forgotten, 
the  past  a  blank,  the  future  uncared  for.  I  awoke  a  new 
creature.  I  became  my  true  self.  I  threw  off  my  bond 
age  of  sin,  —  I  loved  her." 

His  speaking  countenance  reflected  the  glory  of  that 
remembrance.  Ecstasy  beamed  from  his  eyes. 

"  It   is   enough,"   said   Sardia. 

Wringing  his  hand,  Kalfe  swiftly  left  the  room,  and 
was  soon  heard  riding  rapidly  away. 

Sardia,  left  alone,  sat  silently  in  the  shadow  of  the 
wind-blown  branches  that  swept  the  low  window,  for 
nearly  an  hour,  and  then  made  his  way  out  of  the  quiet 
house  down  to  the  sea,  where,  in  one  of  the  hollowed 
chambers  of  the  cliffs,  he  listened  to  its  sad,  soft  mono 
tone,  until,  soothed  and  broadened  by  contact  with  its 


PEACE  267 

measureless  expanse,  across  which  he  was  so  soon  to 
pass  never  to  return,  his  face  took  on  a  semblance  half 
divine.  There  he  gained  .that  harmonious  peace  which 
comes  to  the  soul  that  has  no  boundaries  to  its  benevo 
lence,  but  god-like,  sweeps  the  universe  with  its  patient 
wins. 


268  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

SELF-CRITICISM. 

"  When  all  ray  life  was  wounded  and  forlorn, 
It  felt  the  sacred  influence  wrought  by  thee, 
As  when  sweet  airy  couriers  of  the  morn 
Fling  rosy  prophecies  o'er  shadowed  sea. 

And  now,  though  manlier  force  yet  droop  and  fail, 
Though  deathless  memories  haunt  me  past  control, 
Dear  spirit  of  peace,  thou  art  the  nightingale, 
That  warbles  amid  the  darkness  of  my  soul." 

Edgar  Fawcett. 

RALFE  rode  away  from  the  town  with  its  beautiful 
suburbs  of  villas  and  cottages,  and  turned  into  a  road 
that  followed  a  stream  out  into  the  country.  As  soon 
as  he  found  himself  alone  on  the  way,  he  became  obliv 
ious  of  his  surroundings  and  sank  into  deepest  thought. 
His  horse  took  his  own  gait,  now  ambling  along,  now 
stopping  a  moment  to  crop  a  clover-head,  or  trotting  up 
a  rise  with  pleased  freedom,  while  the  master  whom  he 
loved  held  a  steady  rein,  but  never  gave  a  sign  of  com 
mand,  or  moved  in  the  saddle. 

Singularly  enough  his  thoughts  turned  first  upon  him 
self.  He  went  over  in  mind  the  life  which  had  been  his 
since  he  had  grown  beyond  boyhood,  and  entered  upon 
the  experiences  and  emotions  of  a  man. 

"  How  I  have  sighed  for  a  companion,"  he  mused. 
"I  need  one  so  much.  I  am  so  solitary.  I  am  solitary 
in  my  affections,  my  intellect,  my  spirit.  Sweet  as  is 
the  intercourse  of  my  immediate  friends,  there  is  an  un- 


OUT   OF   THE   DARKLESS  269 

satisfied  longing  in  the  heart  of  every  man  of  culture 
for  a  companion  for  his  mind,  his  soul !  Not  that  I  am 
a  man  of  any  culture,  —  but  I  am  a  little  different,  —  a 
little  more  thoughtful  than  most  men,  in  things  not  of 
absolutely  practical  importance,  —  and  am  I  to  blame  ? 
It  would  be  very  sweet  to  have  a  leisurely  companion 
ship  which  would  be  an  elevation,  an  inspiration  to 
both.  It  would  be  a  heavenly  thing  to  feel  that  close 
beside  me  might  beat  a  heart,  patient,  noble,  tender, 
sympathetic  and  comprehensive."  With  this  he  drew  a 
long  deep  breath,  as  if  drinking  in  a  finer  air.  "Can  it 
be  that  this  great  joy  is  to  be  mine  ?  "  he  went  on,  speak 
ing  to  his  own  soul.  "  Out  of  the  darkness  and  blindness 
and  ignorance  and  wickedness  of  an  unrighteous  passion 
am  I  to  be  lifted  to  the  white  heights  of  a  righteous 
love  ?  I  do  not  deserve  it.  I  can  never  be  worthy  of  it. 

"And  yet,  while  I  believed  in  her,  what  was  Sybil 
to  me,  but  the  one  ideal  perfect  soul  that  matched  rny 
own  ?  God  knows  that  false  as  she  may  have  been,  I 
was  never  so.  While  I  loved  her  she  was  the  dream  of 
excellence  which  put  all  other  women  out  of  sight.  I 
was  true  to  my  ideal.  Perhaps  it  was  this  very  intense 
longing  for  comprehension  and  sympathy  which  made 
me  cling  so  long  to  her,  —  whose  beauty  drew  me,  whose 
wit  charmed,  whose  soft  appealing  eyes  said  worlds  of 
sweetness  and  yet  mystically  hid  a  deeper  meaning.  I 
cannot  fathom  it.  Now  I  cannot  see  her  beauty.  I  only 
remember  her  hours  of  passionate  languor  and  fascina 
tion  with  a  shudder.  How  can  I  have  ever  felt  my  very 
being  sick  for  a  touch  of  her  hot,  scarlet  lips  ?  I  would 
not,  I  could  not  now  endure  them. 

'•'And  even  at  the  moment  of  delirious  joy  when  we 
were  first  left  alone,  she  was  plotting  my  ruin !  Coldly, 
carefully,  she  arranged  to  drive  Helen  to  desperation  — 
and  a  divorce  —  by  accusing  me,  and  while  I  supposed  I  was 


270  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOYE 

plotting  with  her  to  the  same  result,  she  was  securing  both 
ends  of  the  noose,  in  which  to  net  her  dearest  friend  and 
bind  her  lover  at  once !  I  am  appalled  at  my  own  stupidity. 
I  can  never  plead  that  I  had  not  enough  hints  to  open  my 
eyes.  The  borrowed  money  —  the  diamonds  —  her  pre 
tence  of  improvising  Helen's  poem ;  and  yet,  love  found 
such  easy  excuses,  —  her  smile  was  so  full  of  trust,  which 
misled.  But  the  letter.  How  did  she  get  it  —  and 
when  ?  How  could  she  dream  I  still  possessed  it,  or 
where  I  kept  it  ?  My  desk  is  always  locked,  —  by  what 
means  did  she  contrive  to  obtain  it  ?  I  must  find  that 
out.  Helen  looked  very  strangely  when  I  accused 
James.  I  will  ask  James. 

"  But  Helen  !  If  I  have  been  stupid  as  regards  Sybil, 
what  word  can  express  my  blindness  about  my  wife  ? 
Thank  God,  thank  God,  she  is  my  wife,  and  I  can  show  her 
by  long  years  of  perfect  tenderness  how  deeply  I  value 
the  unasked,  unnoted  treasure  of  her  love.  To  think 
that  all  these  weeks  and  months  this  silent,  exquisite, 
melancholy  self-sacrifice  has  been  going  on  for  me,  loyally, 
hopelessly,  patiently.  To  think  that  her  kind  heart,  suf 
fering  its  own  secret  sorrow,  has  held  for  me  nothing 
but  sweetness,  in  return  for  all  I  have  heedlessly  heaped 
upon  its  sensitive  and  trembling  strings. 

"  Oh,  since  she  married  me  at  all,  with  her  keen  and 
delicate  sense  of  honor,  it  was  because  she  loved  me 
from  the  first,  and  hoped  to  win  by  her  great  devotion 
a  response  which  would  satisfy  her  longing.  Vain  hope  ! 
Vain  fool  that  I  have  been !  With  what  ceaseless  care 
she  has  tried  to  give  me  every  advantage !  To  think 
that  on  our  wedding  night,  —  the  moment  when  every 
girlish  fancy  was  sweetest,  —  she  should  have  heard  me 
say  that  I  did  not  love  her,  and  presumed  she  was  up 
stairs  planning  some  bit  of  dress.  No  wonder  her  mod 
est  soul  sought  refuge  in  her  scheme  of  becoming  a 


AN  UPLIFTED  LIFE  271 

comrade  !  Anything  else  would  be  prostitution  in  her 
pure  eyes.  Thank  God  I  agreed !  Yes,  thank  God  I 
had  sense  enough  to  agree  ! 

"And  since?  A  series  of  patient,  gentle,  persevering 
courtesies,  and  charities,  and  self-sacrifices,  which  have 
made  my  life  a  freedom,  an  uplifting,  a  joy.  So  well 
has  she  guarded  her  secret,  that  at  this  moment  nothing 
she  has  ever  said  or  done  could  prove  to  me  anything 
more  than  an  unalterable  friendship.  Dear  woman,  won, 
yet  never  wooed !  How  shall  I  ever  dare  to  approach 
the  sacred  shrine  where  lies  hidden  this  wonderful 
wealth  of  affection  ?  Only  its  supreme  outpouring  can 
hide  my  past  from  her  clear  gaze  !  Only  its  own  strength 
will  grant  me  the  grace  of  being  worthy  to  be  hers.  It 
is  like  the  lavish  love  of  the  Father,  which  seeks  nothing 
but  love  in  return,  to  blot  out  the  transgressions  which 
have  defiled  and  stained  the  human  soul  beyond  all  rec 
ognition. 

"And  I  have  thought  she  loved  Sardia.  When  she 
sobbed  in  my  sick-chamber,  after  her  long  watching,  I 
fancied  it  was  from  longing  for  Sardia.  Longing  !  Why, 
that  was  the  name  of  her  poem !  There  she  spoke  her 
heart  out !  There  she  told  me  in  lines  of  melancholy 
beauty,  that  she  '  hungered  for  it  so  ! '  And  I  believed 
it  was  for  freedom  and  Sardia  !  This  was  pure  wicked 
ness.  If  my  mind  had  been  filled  with  anything  but 
wickedness,  I  never  could  have  misread  that  plain  appeal. 
My  heart  was  hard,  my  eyes  were  darkened,  because  there 
was  no  light  in  me.  Had  I  repudiated  the  woman  who 
tempted,  I  should  have  known  the  woman  who  loved.  Sin 
smothers  the  spirit ! 

"I  will  go  home,  bravely,  faithfully.  When  God  wills, 
He  will  find  a  time  to  put  my  wife  in  my  arms,  close  to 
my  heart.  I  will  tell  her  all.  Lay  my  soul  at  her  feet, 
bare  of  all  its  superficial  coverings,  with  all  its,  earthy 


272  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

stains.  If  she  will  raise  me  to  her  side,  I  will  bless  her. 
If  she  justly  refuses  her  pardon,  I  will  bless  her.  Never 
came  culprit  before  a  truer  judge.  My  wife,  rny  darling, 
my  Helen !  " 

On  his  arrival  home  he  called  James  into  the  library. 
"James,"  said  he,  "I  have  lost  a  letter.  Did  you  know 
it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Poor  Anne,  sir,  was  weeping  in  the  kitchen,  sir, 
when  I  came  home  that  evenin',  sir,  and  she  said  you 
were  angry  with  her,  sir." 

"  When  you  came  home  in  the  evening,  James  ? 
Where  had  you  been  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  you  sent  rne  yourself  to  see  to  that  mort 
gage  on  the  Rowley  farm,  sir,  and  it  was  a  good  twenty 
mile.  I  couldn't  get  home  earlier,  sir." 

"  Ah  ! "  thought  Mr.  Fielding  with  a  contented  sigh. 
"  Yet  I  could  accuse  Helen  of  setting  him  as  a  spy  ! 
James,"  said  he  slowly,  "I  have  always  trusted  you, 
ever  since  I  was  a  lad.  That  letter  was  very  important 
to  me.  I  have  never  found  out  how  I  lost  it.  Don't 
you  think  you  could  manage  to  get  some  clew  to  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  can.     I  know  who  stole  it." 

"  Stole  it !  "  exclaimed  his  master,  jumping  up. 

"  Yes,  sir,  stole  it.     I  saw  it  done." 

"  Tell  me  at  once  !  " 

"The  night  it  was  stole,  sir,  was  that  'ere  queer  kind 
o'  doin's  you  had  in  the  drawin'-room,  when  Miss 
Visonti  fell  asleep  in  her  chair,  and  you  folks  went  in 
to  hear  the  mistress  sing.  You  stayed  in  the  library, 
sir,  as  you  may  remember,  after  all  of  'em  had  gone  to 
bed.  After  I  got  to  bed  myself,  I  happened  to  think, 
sir,  that  I  had  neglected  to  wind  your  wallable  clock  in 


JAMES  TELLS  273 

the  hall,  and  so  I  slipt  on  somethin'  or  other,  and  crept 
down  to  wind  it.  But  just  as  I  was  a-goin'  to,  I  saw  the 
missis  " — 

"  Your  mistress  ! "  cried  Ralfe  in  a  voice  of  pain. 

"  Wall,  no,  'twarn't  her;  I  was  sure  it  was  at  first,  but 
it  warn't.  When  she  come  down  by  me  into  the  light, 
I  saw  'twas  Miss  Visonti,  sir,  —  and  you  was  a-settin' 
a-readin'  of  a  letter.  She  crept  up  behind  you,  unbe 
knownst,  and  would  a'  done  somethin',  —  I  don't  exactly 
know  what,  if  she  hadn't  a'  caught  .sight  of  the  letter. 
She  just  come  backards  like  a  crab  —  as  smooth,  sir,  as 
if  she'd  a'  been  oiled,  and  when  you  tossed  the  letter  in 
the  desk,  and  slammed  down  the  cover,  and  went  out  of 
the  winder  on  to  the  lawn,  she  skipped  back  like  as  if 
she  was  a  bird,  and  grabbin'  the  letter,  she  run  up  the 
stairs  as  if  the  Devil  was  arter  her,  and  I  do'  know 
but  he  was." 

Kalfe  kept  silence  a  moment,  thinking  of  his  walk  in 
the  garden.  In  an  instant  he  remembered  seeing  Sybil's 
silhouette  on  the  curtain.  She  was  reading  a  letter. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this  at  the  time  ?  "  he 
queried  sternly. 

James  fumbled  with  his  coat  and  picked  at  his  cuff. 
Finally  he  answered  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  feared  it  would 
cost  me  my  situation,  sir,  if  I  spoke  against  Miss 
Visonti  to  you." 

Ealfe  turned  away.  In  a  moment  he  faced  around, 
and  said,  "It  shall  not.  You  were  quite  right  in  con 
sidering  it  none  of  your  business.  You  knew  your 
place,  and  have  again  won  my  respect.  The  guests  of 
this  house  must  be  sacred  from  the  tongue  of  gossip. 
But  I  also  thank  you  for  your  honesty  in  answering 
when  questioned.  I  shall  not  forget  it,  James,  —  you 
may  go." 

('  And  so/'  said  Ralfe  to  himself,  as  he  took  the  letter 


274  SARDIA:    A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

from  his  pocket,  and  with  a  lip  of  scorn,  tore  it  into 
tiny  fragments,  "  this  letter,  which  in  surprise  and  tears, 
Sybil  Visonti  swore  she  had  never  seen  nor  even  ever  so 
much  as  heard  about,  was  in  her  possession  at  that  very 
moment.  Stolen  by  her  to  further  her  vile  ends ! 

'  Long  is  the  way, 
And  hard,  that  out  of  hell  leads  up  to  light.' 

But  I  stand  in  God's  sunshine  at  last !  The  whole  is  as 
clear  as  day." 


MADAME   MENSIIIKOFF'S  KETUKN  275 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

CONDEMNED. 

"  For  murder,  though  it  have  no  tongue, 
Will  speak  with  most  miraculous  organ." 

Hamlet. 

"  HE  did  not  appear !  "  was  Madame  Menshikoff 's  first 
exclamation,  as  she  entered  the  drawing-room  that  even 
ing,  whither  Signer  Zante  had  driven  her  immediately 
from  the  depot.  "  We  waited  until  six  o'clock,  and  the 
heir  did  not  come  to  claim  his  rights." 

Helen  helped  her  to  take  off  her  fur-lined  mantle, 
while  Sardia  carefully  closed  the  doors.  Ralfe,  having 
given  her  a  great  chair,  replied,  "  He  is  not  here,  at  any 
rate." 

"  Of  course  you  all  know  "  —  The  princess  hesitated. 
"  You  have  told  them  the  whole  story,  signer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course.  We  have  been  awaiting  your  arrival 
with  the  utmost  anxiety." 

"  And  Sybil  is  very  sick,  —  delirious  ?  " 

"  The  physicians  are  puzzled,"  said  Helen.  "  She 
seems  to  have  no  great  fever,  yet  does  not  recover  her 
senses.  She  is  gradually  becoming  more  violent.  They 
talk  of  acute  mania." 

"What  has  done  this  ?"  exclaimed  Madame  Menshi- 
koff  in  tones  of  intense  surprise. 

"  That  is  it !  What  can  have  done  it  ?  She  was  as 
sane  as  possible  Monday  evening,"  echoed  Signor  Zante. 

"I  have  told  you  of  our  interview,"  answered  Helen 
in  a  low,  troubled  voice,  "  I  fear  I  arn  the  cause." 


276  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  You  !  "  they  all  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  the  cause  lies  deep.  It  is  something  more  than 
even  her  knowledge  that  Julian  Visonti  is  at  once  her 
adopted  brother  and  the  father  of  little  Ralfe,"  said  the 
princess.  "  But  let  me  tell  you.  When  I  boarded  the 
train,  your  man  James  came  in  accompanied  by  a  woman. 
In  a  moment  I  saw  it  was  my  maid,  Dantin.  At  once  I 
compelled  her  to  sit  beside  me  and  give  me  the  history 
of  her  life  from  the  moment  she  stole  away  from  me, 
three  or  four  years  ago.  It  was  as  I  had  imagined.  She 
had  taken  charge  of  Miss  Visonti's  child,  and  had  now, 
in  terror  of  some  one,  crossed  the  ocean  to  place  him  in 
his  mother's  hands.  I  made  her  describe  the  man  who 
followed  her,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  the 
recreant  Julian.  I  took  her  with  me  and  ordered  James 
to  return  to  you,  as  I  knew  you  would  understand  and 
pardon  such  an  action  when  Signor  Zante  had  made  you 
acquainted  with  the  truth.  We  went  to  the  office  of  the 
lawyer  who  has  always  had  charge  of  the  Yisonti 
estates.  He  had  always  known  my  claims,  as  I  had  been 
quietly  introduced  to  him  by  his  clients  for  that  purpose." 

"  Why,  have  you  ever  visited  America  before  ?  "  ex 
claimed  Ealfe  in  surprise. 

"  Secretly,  yes.  Of  course  you  did  not  know  it !  Well, 
we  expected  to  see  the  door  open  at  any  moment  and  Julian 
Visonti  come  in.  The  will  —  all  the  documents  were  on 
the  table.  The  hour  set  was  noon.  You  cannot  imagine 
the  suspense  of  the  last  few  moments  !  At  ten  minutes 
to  twelve,  I  thought  out  the  history  of  the  whole  matter. 
At  nine  minutes,  I  foresaw  what  woirld  happen  if  he 
came !  At  eight,  I  foresaw  all  the  consequences  if  he 
did  not  come.  At  seven,  I  went  over  the  whole  method 
of  becoming  an  adept.  At  six,  a  window  in  another 
room  was  suddenly  shut,  and  I  went  through  the  feeling 
of  an  earthquake.  At  five,  I  truly  began  to  tremble.  I 


A  SPIRIT  VOICE  277 

cannot  tell  why.  I  was  not  calm  as  usual.  I  felt  a 
strange  chill  in  the  air.  All  these  interminable  minutes, 
in  which  I  had  lived  lives,  seemed  concentrated  into  a 
palpable,  horrible  sense  of  the  unnatural,  the  uncanny, 
the  weird.  At  the  third  minute  before  twelve,  I  sud 
denly  became  conscious  of  a  strong  pressure  on  my 
shoulder  and  a  breath  in  my  ear.  I  concentrated  my 
whole  will  on  my  hearing,  and  at  the  last  moment,  just 
while  the  clock  was  whirring  to  strike,  I  heard  a  voice 
say  as  plainly  as  my  voice  now:  'I  shall  not  come. 
Good-by.' " 

The  absolute  silence  which  had  reigned  during  this 
narrative  was  painfully  continued. 

" '  Let  us  give  him  a  few  hours'  lee-way,'  I  proposed," 
continued  Madame  Menshikoff.  "They  agreed.  And 
we  sat  there  six  mortal  hours.  When  the  clock  struck 
six,  the  gentleman  handed  me  a  check  for  an  amount 
which  wholly  covered  all  my  loss  in  the  jewels,  and 
then  formally  announced  to  me,  as  the  oldest  and  best 
friend  of  the  family,  that  Sybil  Visonti  was  now  sole 
heir  to  the  estate,  which  would  amount  to  nearly  three- 
quarters  of  a  million  of  money.  They  then  said  that 
immediately  on  her  return  from  Europe,  she  had  told 
them  of  the  birth  of  an  illegitimate  child,  and  had  then 
caused  them  to  draw  up  the  papers  for  the  legal  adop 
tion  of  her  own  boy.  After  that,  she  had  made  her  will, 
leaving  everything  of  which  she  died  possessed  to  her 
son,  and  bestowing  on  him  the  name  of  Ealfe  Visonti. 
The  child,  then,  is  the  heir  of  all  my  poor  old  friends 
had  gained.  But,  nevertheless,  he  is  their  grandchild, 
if  not  in  law,  by  the  still  stronger  tie  of  blood." 

"  But  where  can  Visonti  be  ?  Why  did  he  fail  to 
appear  ?  He  certainly  had  crossed  the  ocean  for  that 
purpose,"  cried  Signer  Zante. 

"  I  have  made  the  most  careful  inquiries,"  said  Kalfe, 


278  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"and  I  am  certain  that  he  was  in  this  town  on  Monday. 
He  came  to  the  Argyle,  registered  his  name,  left  a 
small  satchel  in  his  room,  and  went  out  of  the  house 
almost  as  soon  as  he  entered  it.  He  dined  early,  at 
about  three  o'clock,  and  then  sauntered  out.  At  seven, 
he  was  in  the  billiard-room  for  a  few  moments,  and  light 
ing  a  cigar,  went  up  the  avenue.  That  is  the  end  of  my 
information.  No  one  has  heard  of  or  seen  him  since. 
Of  course  he  went  to  New  York  on  an  evening  train. 
But  why  he  did  not  pay  his  bill  and  take  his  satchel,  I 
do  not  know." 

"I  conjecture,"  said  Sardia,  "that  he  intended  to 
return  at  once.  He  had  ascertained  that  Miss  Yisonti 
was  here,  had  found  out  that  Dantin  had  taken  the  boy 
directly  to  this  house,  and,  confident  that  they  would  not 
disappear  before  he  could  come  back  from  Xew  York, 
after  claiming  his  property,  he  decided  to  leave  at  once, 
and  return  to  either  offer  marriage  to  Sybil,  or  to  demand 
the  custody  of  his  son." 

"  But  if  he  went  to  New  York,  why  did  he  not  come 
and  claim  the  estate  ?  "  again  asked  Madame  Menshi- 
koff. 

"  It  is  inexplicable,"  murmured  Ralfe.  "  I  cannot  see 
any  reason  why  he  should  not." 

"He  may  have  been  arrested,"  suddenly  remarked 
Signor  Zante.  "Who  knows  if  he  may  not  be  a  crimi 
nal  ?  A  detective  may  have  followed  him  even  from 
Europe.  He  may  even  not  have  left  here  at  all,  but  is 
in  hiding,  having  caught  sight  of  some  one  whom  he 
feared.  Such  a  man  is  capable  of  anything,  and  it  may 
have  been  God's  will  that  at  the  very  moment  when  he 
may  have  been  entering  the  door  to  announce  himself, 
the  hand  of  the  law  grasped  him  and  led  him  away. 
There  are  many  things  that  may  have  detained  him. 
Perhaps,  on  the  whole,  it  is  a  thousand  times  better  that 


THE  DOCTOR'S   DILEMMA  279 

he  never  can  touch  a  penny  of  the  money  earned  by  the 
parents  he  dishonored  and  deserted." 

"  In  any  case,  he  is  too  late  now,"  said  the  princess 
with  a  grave  smile.  "But  I  shall  never  forget  that 
voice.  It  was  that  of  a  spirit." 

" Let  us  go  to  dinner,"  said  Helen.  "You  must  be 
tired  and  hungry." 

"  I  am,"  answered  madame. 

Ralfe  started  as  if  from  a  dream.  "  If  he  is  alive,  he 
shall  marry  her  ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"We  all  agree  with  you,"  answered  Signor  Zante 
soothingly.  "  We  all  agree  with  you,  rest  assured." 

At  that  moment  a  knock  was  heard,  and  one  of  the 
physicians  entered.  "Excuse  me  for  intruding,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  am  in  real  trouble.  One  of  the  nurses  was 
called  to  the  death-bed  of  her  mother  this  afternoon, 
and  I  am  at  this  moment  called  to  a  most  urgent  case. 
The  other  nurse  is  absolutely  fainting  with  fatigue. 
She  has  not  been  relieved  since  very  early  this  morning. 
I  wish  her  to  rest  for  half  an  hour,  at  least,  and  I  have 
no  one  to  stay  with  Miss  Visonti  until  another  woman, 
for  whom  I  have  telephoned,  can  arrive.  Have  you  any 
trustworthy  servant,  madam,  who  could  remain  in  the 
room  for  a  short  time  ?  One  who  will  be  silent,  and 
who  will  not  repeat  what  she  may  hear  Miss  Visonti 
say  ?  " 

"Our  women  are  all  young,"  said  Helen,  hesitating. 
"  I  will  go  myself." 

"  I  will  accompany  you,"  said  Madame  Menshikoff. 

"  Oh,  thanks,  ladies,  nothing  could  be  better !  Miss 
Visonti  is  now  asleep.  She  drops  into  short  naps,  and 
then  awakens,  —  sometimes  calm  and  sometimes  talking 
very  strangely.  But  I  think  there  is  no  fear  for  a 
short  time."  And  he  rushed  away  without  another 
word. 


280        SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  Let  us  go  at  once/'  said  Helen. 

"Let  us  all  go,"  said  Madame  Menshikoff,  in  a  clear, 
low  tone.  "  It  will  do  no  harm  for  us  each  to  observe 
her,  and  try  to  solve  the  secret  of  her  strange  condition." 

In  a  moment  the  party  found  themselves  in  Sybil's 
great  chamber.  She  was  lying  on  a  broad  lounge, 
enveloped  in  a  soft  silk  dressing-gown  which  swept  the 
floor  in  billowy  folds.  Her  hair,  knotted  high  on  her 
head,  was  fastened  with  an  amber  comb,  and  her  hands 
were  devoid  of  the  jewels  that  usually  glittered  on  her 
dark  little  fingers.  She  was  breathing  heavily,  and 
constantly  moving  her  head  from  side  to  side,  while  her 
half-opened  eyes  gave  her  an  almost  frightful  expression. 
They  gazed  on  her  with  varying  emotions,  involuntarily 
falling  into  a  close  group,  and  almost  leaning  on  each 
other. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  short  sharp  cry,  and  sprang  to 
her  feet.  Kalfe  stepped  forward  to  catch  her,  when  she 
looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and  cried,  "Are  you  going 
to  marry  me  ?  " 

He  stood  as  if  thunder-struck,  and  made  no  reply. 

"  If  I  am  not  a  Visonti,  who  am  I  ?  "  she  went  on, 
glaring  at  him  with  insane  rage.  "  If  I  am  the  mother 
of  your  child,  are  not  you  the  father  ?  Don't  you  know 
the  moon  is  looking  at  us  both,  and  can  witness  that  you 
wronged  me  ?  Julian,  beware  !  " 

Ralfe  stepped  forward  to  utter  some  soothing  word, 
when  she  assumed  the  curved,  crouching  position  of  a 
wild  beast  making  ready  to  spring.  "  Julian,  will  you 
marry  me  ?  "  she  cried  again  in  a  terrible  voice.  And 
then,  as  if  listening  to  an  exasperating  reply,  she  sud 
denly  tore  the  comb  from  her  hair,  and  would  have 
struck  him  on  the  breast,  had  Sardia  not  grasped  her 
arm.  "  Die,  fool,  and  tell  no  tales,"  she  muttered,  look 
ing  at  the  floor,  and  bending  down  to  gaze  upon  it. 


SELF-ACCUSED  281 

"Sink  deep,  and  be  quiet.  I  cannot  hear  anything. 
Ah,  ha  !  you  moon,  you  wicked  murderous  moon.  Now 
aren't  you  happy  ?  Now  haven't  I  pleased  you,  Moon- 
Devil  ? "  and  she  flung  herself  back  on  the  lounge, 
shaking  with  maniacal  laughter,  and  subsiding  into  a 
low  moaning. 

They  had  all  listened  to  her  with  unspeakable,  fascin 
ated  horror.  In  the  minds  of  each,  sentence  by  sen 
tence,  dawned  and  grew  the  same  thought.  A  chill 
seemed  to  settle  down  upon  them,  their  faces  becoming 
drawn  and  white  with  emotion. 

"  She  has  killed  him,"  breathed  the  princess  in  a 
whisper  of  intense  awe. 

And  not  one  but  re-echoed,  in  their  soul  of  souls,  the 
terrible  words  of  condemnation. 

Ealfe  felt  Helen  lean  more  and  more  heavily  on  his 
side,  and  looking  down,  found  she  was  falling  in  a  dead 
faint. 


282  SAKDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

UNITED. 

"  I  said  to  the  rose,  '  The  brief  night  goes 

In  babble  and  revel  and  wine, 
O  young  lord-lover,  what  sighs  are  those 

For  one  that  will  never  be  thine  ? 
But  mine,  but  mine,'  so  I  swear  to  the  rose, 
'  Forever  and  ever,  mine.' 

For  a  breeze  of  morning  moves, 

And  the  planet  of  Love  is  on  high, 
Beginning  to  faint  in  the  light  that  she  loves, 

On  a  bed  of  daffodil  sky, 
To  faint  in  the  light  of  the  sun  she  loves, 

To  faint  in  his  light  and  to  die." 

Tennyson. 

WHEN  Helen  awoke  to  consciousness,  she  found  her 
self  in  her  husband's  arms.  He  was  holding  her  gently 
against  his  breast,  and  her  head  rested  upon  his  shoul 
der.  His  eyes  were  looking  into  hers  with  an  expression 
of  unutterable  love, — a  devotion  which  was  more  expres 
sive  than  she  had  ever  seen  arise  in  any  human  counte 
nance. 

For  some  time  she  reclined  there,  passively  trying  to 
realize  what  it  was  that  had  brought  her  to  such  weak 
ness,  such  helplessness.  But  a  delicious  rest  and  com 
fort,  a  sense  of  infinite  content,  soothed  her  into  a 
moveless  silence.  Kalfe  finally  changed  his  position, 
and  said  quietly,  while  a  slight  tinge  of  amusement 
crept  into  his  voice,  "  This  is  an  odd  situation  for  two 
comrades  ?  " 


PLEADING  283 

Helen  started  and  withdrew  herself,  leaning  back  on 
the  couch. 

He  had  carried  her  into  her  own  room,  and  carefully 
closed  the  door.  A  few  simple  remedies  had  revived  her 
clouded  senses.  Now  he  drew  an  ottoman  beside  her, 
and  added,  "  But  we  have  grown  to  be  something  more, 
have  we  not  ?  " 

She  flushed  slightly,  and  turned  her  head  away. 

Then  with  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  her  hus 
band  caught  her  hand.  "My  dearest,"  he  murmured, 
"tell  me,  tell  me  if  we  have  not  grown  to  be  more? 
Can  your  heart  deny  its  sweet  discovery,  when  mine 
glories  in  it,  and  feels  the  ecstasy  of  heaven  ?  Oh,  say, 
say  the  words,  the  precious,  beautiful  words  which  I 
crave  to  hear  as  a  thirsty  man  craves  a  draught  of  cool 
spring  water  !  Be  generous !  Do  not  deny  me,  even 
although  you  know  so  well  that  I  deserve  nothing, 
worse  than  nothing,  from  you !  I  am  at  your  feet 
in  all  humility,  my  Helen.  I  acknowledge  all  the  stu 
pidity  and  wickedness  and  darkness  of  the  past.  The 
light  came  into  my  world,  and  I  was  blind  to  it.  I  had 
eyes  that  saw  not,  ears  that  heard  not,  a  heart  that 
responded  not,  for  my  senses  were  steeped  in  a  witch's 
glamour,  my  will  was  crushed  beneath  a  siren's  foot. 
But  now,  blessed  woman,  I  am  awake.  I  see,  I  hear,  I 
feel,  and  the  rich  vision  of  the  spirit  seeks  reality  in 
you." 

"With  slow,  persuaded  motion  his  wife  had  again 
turned  toward  him  until  her  face,  fair  with  an  inner 
loveliness  which  seemed  to  shine  through  every  feature, 
looked  sweetly  in  his  own. 

"  Let  me  woo  and  win  you,"  he  went  on,  gathering  her 
hands  close  against  his  breast,  and  dropping  kisses  on 
them,  "  let  me  show  you  that  this  late  love,  coming 
after  so  strange  a  passion,  is.no  dishonor;  but  a  royal 


284  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

tribute  of  awakened  manhood  to  the  queen  of  woman 
hood,  an  outburst  into  bloom  of  all  the  finer  issues  of 
life  which  had  been  saved  and  concentrated  in  their 
essence,  even  amidst  the  soil  of  earthly  passion.  Let 
me  give  you  my  whole  long  life  of  earnest  endeavor,  not 
to  atone,  —  for  you  would  not  subject  me  to  punishment, 
but  to  improve  and  progress  under  the  lovely  influence 
of  a  genuine  affection.  Helen,  be  my  wife.  Give  me 
the  assurance  of  your  confidence." 

"  The  moment  that  you  told  me  that  I  could  securely 
trust  you,  thrust  away  the  last  barrier,  Ralfe,"  said  she. 
"  There  has  been  no  moment  since  you  first  came  into 
my  presence  that  I  have  not  loved  you.  My  love  seemed 
hopeless  ;  but  I  did  not  try  to  quench  its  flame.  It  was 
beautiful  and  holy,  because  it  was  true  and  right,  and, 
dearest,  now  that  for  the  first  time  you  claim  it,  take 
it,  take  it  with  all  my  being,  all  I  am  ' " 

With  tears  in  their  mutual  eyes,  but  unspeakable  joy 
in  both  their  hearts,  their  first  fond  kiss  was  given  and 
taken. 

Kiss  of  the  union  of  man  and  woman,  the  mating  for 
all  eternity  of  wedded  spirits.  Kiss  of  the  harmony 
of  all  that  is  natural  and  all  that  is  supernal  in  the 
history  of  human  existence.  A  vision  of  some  brighter 
sphere,  some  heavenly  paradise  of  promise,  hangs  over 
the  joining  of  two  such  beings,  and  the  chrism  of  God's 
purpose  toward  His  children  crowns  the  marriage  of  two 
such  souls. 

It  was  amazing  to  both  Helen  and  Kalfe  when  they 
thought  of  it  afterwards,  how  freely  and  eagerly  and 
earnestly  they  had  conversed,  when  once  their  tenderer 
mood  had  passed.  Each  poured  forth  to  the  other  the 
whole  hidden  history  of  the  past  few  months.  Their 
reserve  was  forever  broken  toward  each  other,  even  as 


FAITH  AND   JOY  285 

the  ice  in  a  great  river  under  the  warm  and  the  glow 
of  a  golden  sun,  parts,  breaks  and  sweeps  down  the  cur 
rent,  leaving  a  wide,  free  passage  for  every  passing 
thing  that  floats  toward  a  boundless  sea.  They  talked 
as  if  they  had  been  old  friends,  just  met  after  a  long 
and  painful  absence.  They  revealed  to  each  other  every 
trifling  point  which  had  either  puzzled,  pleased  or  pained 
them.  They  rushed  through  the  strange  incidents  of 
the  Visonti's  sojourn  with  mutual  surprises,  explana 
tions  and  interpretations,  until  not  a  foible  or  freak 
of  hers  remained,  that  they  had  not  canvassed  and 
understood.  Even  the  general  chatter  of  the  place  took 
on  a  new  and  absorbing  interest,  for  now  they  saw 
things  not  apart,  and  from  different  standpoints  or 
with  divided  opinions,  but  from  a  partnership  of  feel 
ing  and  a  companionship  of  thought. 

The  fascination  of  thus  rediscovering  each  other,  the 
magic  transformation  of  motives  and  meanings,  now 
that  with  absolute  frankness  they  confessed  their  inner 
secrets,  was  almost  maddening  in  its  delicious  and  grow 
ing  sense  of  mutual  possession,  unchecked,  unlimited. 
It  was  a  drama  of  delight  which  held  them  enthralled 
in  each  other's  presence  until  gray  day  began  to  dawn, 
and  a  warning  streak  of  rose  told  them  that  another 
morrow  had  arisen. 

"  Come  ! "  said  Ralfe,  drawing  his  beloved  one  to  the 
open  window,  "  Come  and  look  out  upon  our  new  world. 
See  !  over  the  mist  of  the  ocean  and  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  rises  the  sun  of  life  and  beauty,  the  glory 
of  a  new  day.  So,  dear  wife,  over  the  mist  and  dark 
ness  that  has  so  long  kept  us  moving  strangely  apart, 
yet  ever  truly  seeking  each  other,  rises  the  sun  of 
love  and  righteousness,  to  make  for  us  a  new  existence 
of  faith  and  sacred  joy.  Oh,  Helen  !  here  in  the  early 
dawn  of  our  sweet  union,  promise  to  be  gentle  with  me. 


286  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF  LOVE 

I  am  not  as  noble  and  pure  as  you  are,  but  I  will  be 
as  worthy  as  I  may." 

While  she,  leaning  on  his  arm  and  looking  with 
perfect  tenderness  into  his  face  answered,  "My  hus 
band  has  my  whole  respect.  I  honor  him  above  all 
men.  He  is  my  king.  He  has  no  faults  in  my  eyes. 
I  have  given  him  all  I  have,  and  I  trust  him  with  my 
whole  happiness  now  and  forever." 


LONESOME  !  287 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ALMOST    A    TRAGEDY. 

"  Where  peace 

And  rest  can  never  dwell,  hope  never  comes, 
That  comes  to  all!" 

Paradise  Lost. 

SEVERAL  days  passed  with  little  to  excite  apprehension 
in  the  patient.  The  physicians  had  reported  that  she 
had  become  quite  lucid,  but  was  astonishingly  weak. 

Although  answering  questions  rationally,  Miss  Visonti 
had  made  no  conversation  with  her  attendants  until 
one  afternoon,  when  she  began  to  beg  to  see  some  one 
she  knew.  "  I  am  so  lonesome,  shut  up  here,"  she 
pleaded.  "I  feel  quite  strong  enough  to  go  down  to 
dinner.  Do  let  me  go  down  and  see  Helen,  doctor !  I 
am  sure  I  am  quite  well  enough.  I  shall  die  up  here, 
shut  away  from  everybody." 

Although  her  physicians  feared  it  would  be  a  danger 
ous  experiment,  thinking  that  any  excitement  might 
send  her  quite  back  to  her  strange  delirium,  she  begged 
so  passionately  that  they  finally  spoke  of  her  request  to 
Ralfe  and  Helen.  She  instantly  gave  her  consent.  Her 
pity  overcame  any  abhorrence  she  may  have  felt,  and  her 
generous  desire  to  do  anything  whatever  which  might 
aid  in  restoring  her  to  strength  and  reason,  actuated 
a  quick  and  eager  compliance. 

Ralfe  demurred,  however.  He  feared  the  repetition 
of  a  scene,  and  again,  he  could  not  endure  the  thought 
that  his  wife  would  again  be  brought  into  close  contact 


288  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

with  a  woman  he  now  felt  unworthy  to  breathe  the 
same  clear  air.  But  he  gave  his  consent  as  soon  as  he 
saw  a  soft,  reproachful  look  glance  from  Helen's  eyes. 

"We  will  both  dine  with  you  if  quite  convenient," 
said  the  colleagues,  as  they  thanked  Mrs.  Fielding  for 
her  kindness.  "  We  can  be  seated  on  either  side  of  Miss 
Visonti,  and  should  she  suddenly  show  the  least  incli 
nation  to  violence  or  excitement,  we  can  take  her  away 
at  once.  Shall  you  have  guests  at  dinner,  madam  ?  " 

"  None  save  those  who  know  her  quite  as  well  as  we. 
Madame  Menshikoff  and  Signor  Zante  take  a  farewell 
dinner  with  us,  and  Sir  Sardia,  as  they  sail  to-night  for 
India.  There  will  be  no  one  else." 

"  We  will  have  her  nurses  in  the  hall,  so  that  should 
there  be  the  least  disturbance,  if  all  the  party  will 
remain  perfectly  quiet,  we  will  not  permit  it  to  last  a 
moment." 

"  How  pitiful,  how  horrible  ! "  said  Helen  when  they 
had  gone.  "  This  brilliant,  beautiful  woman  to  be  guarded 
as  if  she  were  a  wild  beast !  Who  could  have  dreamed 
a  fortnight  ago  that  we  should  fear  to  be  alone  with  our 
most  fascinating  and  charming  guest  ?  Ralfe,  when  I 
think  of  this  amazing  change  in  so  short  a  time,  I 
believe  it  is  only  the  climax  of  a  long  series  of  causes. 
How  she  seems  to  hate  the  moon !  Her  women  say  she 
seems  to  fear  and  hate  the  moon  as  if  it  were  alive. 
They  have  been  obliged  to  close  the  shutters  and  hang 
heavy  curtains  over  the  windows  the  last  two  nights. 
To-night  it  will  be  full.  I  hope  nothing  will  happen." 

"Well,  dearest,  if  there  does  we  must  keep  perfectly 
calm,  and  not  add  to  any  noise  by  so  much  as  a  word. 
I  am  assured  that  however  rational  she  may  be  at  times, 
she  will  never  fully  recover.  Her  memories  will  ever 
goad  her  to  madness." 

Helen   shuddered  and  walked   slowly  out  into   the 


COURTESY  289 

garden,  turning  her  face  up  to  the  sunny  sky,  as  if 
drinking  in  its  assurance  and  comfort. 

When  they  had  all  assembled  in  the  drawing-room, 
Sybil  came  slowly  down  the  stairs,  escorted  most  cava 
lierly  by  the  two  gentlemen,  who  were  chatting  with  her 
with  all  the  nonchalance  of  old  friends. 

"We  have  persuaded  Miss  Visonti  to  come  down,  so 
as  to  give  you  a  little  surprise,"  they  said.  "  Come,  con 
gratulate  us.  Have  we  not  quelled  the  fever  quickly  ? 
And  does  she  show  illness  in  the  least  ?  " 

All  surrounded  her  with  smiles  and  welcoming  speeches. 

"How  nice,"*said  Signor  Zante  kindly,  "that  we  really 
have  a  chance  to  say  our  good-bys  in  person  !  Had  that 
envious  disease  kept  you  a  prisoner  we  should  have  been 
desolated." 

She  received  their  compliments  and  courtesies  with  her 
usual  languid  grace,  answering  with  the  half-bantering, 
half-cynical  speeches  which  distinguished  her  conversa 
tion,  and  was  seated  so  quickly  at  table  that  she  took  no 
note  that  her  physicians  were  beside  her.  Flattered  and 
delighted  that  she  seemed  to  be  the  centre  of  attraction, 
she  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  her  melancholy  speedily 
yielded  to  the  gay  chaff  with  which  she  was  constantly 
assailed.  Through  cpurse  after  course  of  delicious 
dishes  the  repartee  was  kept  up,  and  the  laughter  which 
rippled  out  of  the  broad  windows  made  it  seem  once 
more  as  if  the  summer  guests  were  making  merry. 
Coffee  was  at  last  finished,  and  Sardia  strolled  out  on  to 
a  broad  piazza,  lifted  several  feet  from  the  stone  walk 
which  encircled  it,  and  edged  by  a  fancy  balustrade  on 
which  he  lightly  leaned.  The  others  following,  leaned 
or  seated  themselves  in  a  group  and  would  have  contin 
ued  conversing  while  the  gentlemen  smoked,  had  it  not 
been  for  little  Ralfe,  who,  according  to  his  royal  rights, 
ran  in  to  claim  a  pocketful  of  nuts  and  a  bunch  of  grapes 


290  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF   LOVE 

from  dessert.  He  had  become,  in  all  these  quiet  days,  a 
source  of  pleasure  to  every  inmate.  Sweet-tempered, 
jolly,  and  beautiful  as  a  dream,  he  had  made  friends  of 
every  one  and  already  asserted  himself  as  the  privileged 
darling  of  the  household.  To  Ralfe  he  had  always  paid 
the  compliment  of  his  outspoken  preference.  He  fol 
lowed  him  about  and  persisted  in  making  himself  agree 
able  in  such  a  delightful  baby  way  that  he  had  Avon  a 
place  in  his  heart  deeper  than  either  knew. 

Helen,  however,  was  to  him  a  "mamma."  All  his 
baby  trials  and  troubles  were  soothed  by  her,  all  his  par 
ticular  wishes  were  made  known  to  her  in  softest  confi 
dence.  It  was  to  her  he  ran  when  hot  and  tired,  and 
into  her  arms  he  crept  when  sleepy  and  cross.  The 
little  fellow  had  begun  to  form  a  chain  of  strange, 
thoughtful  tenderness  between  husband  and  wife.  Even 
from  the_  first,  and  now,  they  seemed  to  feel  in  him  a 
wonderful  link  that  had  been  the  means  of  bringing 
them  closer  to  each  other  —  in  mutual  charity. 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  childish  voice  Helen  became 
pale  with  apprehension.  She  had  given  strict  orders  to 
have  the  little  one  kept  in  the  nursery.  Of  course  she 
was  well  aware  that  the  sight  of  her  child  might  awaken 
in  Miss  Visonti  intolerable  emotions.  How  had  he 
escaped  ?  Before  she  could  make  a  step  forward  from 
the  balustrade  on  which  she  was  half-sitting,  half-lean 
ing,  with  a  gay  laugh  the  boy  danced  through  the  long 
window  and  sprang  up  to  be  taken,  and  she  involunta 
rily  lifted  his  feet  so  that  he  stood  on  the  edge. 

"Mamma,"  he  cried,  "nuts,  nuts,  mamma!"  and 
flung  his  chubby  arm  across  her  shoulder.  But  before 
she  could  clasp  him,  with  a  fierce  cry,  sharp  and  sudden 
as  some  frenzied  tiger,  Miss  Yisonti  leaped  forward  and 
struck  her  a  violent  blow,  at  the  same  time  trying  to 
tear  him  away.  But  it  was  too  late.  He  had  stood  so 


HOPELESS !  291 

unsteadily  that  letting  go  his  hold,  he  fell  to  the  stone 
walk  below,  and  lay  there  stunned  and  white,  his  face 
silvered  into  snow  by  the  moon  which  beamed  upon  him 
in  fullest  radiance.  Sybil  cried  out  with  exultation, 
leaning  over  and  looking  down  on  him  with  wild 
laughter. 

"Oh,  at  last,  at  last  I  have  you!"  she  cried.  "Dead, 
dead  on  the  earth  and  never  to  rise  again  !  You  round, 
white  face  that  has  stared  and  stared  at  me  all  my  life  ! 
You  haunting,  hideous,  mocking  moon  that  has  followed 
me  so !  Now  I've  dragged  you  down.  Now  I've  got 
you  in  my  power.  Lie  there,  you  white-faced  devil. 
I'm  glad  I've  killed  you  too,  you  spy,  you  watcher!" 

The  scene  had  been  so  totally  unexpected,  that  even 
the  alert  physicians  were  taken  aback,  but  in  the  midst 
of  scornful,  derisive  laughter  they  led  her  away  between 
them,  and  in  a  moment  the  house  was  again  still.  Sardia 
had  leaped  over  the  balcony  and  taken  up  the  little  lad, 
who  made  no  sign  nor  motion,  while  Ralfe  escorted 
Helen  around  to  the  front  hall,  where,  in  spite  of  the 
pain  in  her  shoulder  caused  by  the  thrust  Sybil  had 
given  her,  she  insisted  upon  carrying  him  at  once  to  the 
nursery,  where  one  of  the  doctors  almost  instantly 
joined  her.  Comment  by  her  guests  was  needless. 
They  had  all  understood  the  natural  fury  that  arose  in 
Sybil's  soul  at  the  sight  of  her  son  in  Helen's  arms,  and 
while  they  deplored  the  inapropos  appearance  of  the 
child  at  that  moment,  they  were  but  confirmed  in  the 
opinion  that  Sybil  Visonti  was  hopelessly  insane. 


292  SAKDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE    CROWN    AND    CROSS. 

O  love,  what  better  proof  have  I  for  thee 

Than  this  :  that  I  can  put  thy  love  aside, 

And  seeing  plainly  all  that  is  to  be; 

How  time  and  space  shall  make  the  gulf  so  wide 

That  even  this  perfect  hour  thou  mayst  forget, 

Or  growing  weary,  turn  to  other  things; 

Still  can  I  praise  the  Lord  that  we  have  met. 

Gathering  the  strength  renunciation  brings, 

With  sense  of  finer  ends,  my  life  shall  roll 

In  sweeping  currents  of  the  tenderest  faith 

'Till  it  shall  join  those  calm  waves  of  the  soul 

That  break  upon  the  silent  shore  of  death. 

Then,  having  gained  our  freedom,  should  we  meet, 

Thy  heart  shall  know  how  I  have  loved  thee,  sweet. 

C.  L.  D. 

HELEN  remained  in  the  nursery  more  than  two  hours. 
It  seemed  impossible  to  calm  the  little  fellow,  who, 
after  being  restored  to  consciousness,  complained  of  head 
ache  and  nausea.  But  soothing  him  sweetly  on  her  faith 
ful  breast  and  singing  him  soft  little  lullaby  songs,  re 
membered  from  her  childhood,  she  finally  had  the  grati 
fication  of  seeing  him  lie  in  his  crib-bed,  his  cheeks  once 
more  delicately  rose-shaded  and  his  face  moist  with  the 
fresh  dew  of  slumbering  content.  When  she  came  down 
the  stairs,  she  felt  the  strain  of  that  terrible  incident 
tell  upon  her  strength,  and  her  steps  were  slow  and  un 
steady,  as  she  clung  to  the  balustrade,  not  trusting  her 
self  to  put  down  one  foot  after  another  from  step  to 
step,  but  both  feet  on  each  stair,  after  a  little  rest.  It 


THE  LIGHT  OF  HIS   SPIRIT  293 

took  her  some  time  to  go  down,  and  she  stopped  on  the 
broad  landing  in  the  middle,  her  heart  sinking  into  ner 
vous  dread.  The  house  was  absolutely  still,  — and  now 
she  noted,  brilliantly  lighted.  From  the  three  doors 
opening  into  the  hall  from  drawing-room,  library,  and 
reception-room,  came  a  great  stream  of  light,  as  if  every 
chandelier  was  fully  blazing.  The  nursery,  situated  in 
the  wing,  had  been  closed  to  prevent  the  least  disturb 
ance  of  the  child,  and  she  had  heard  no  guests  arrive. 
What  could  it  mean  ? 

She  gave  a  little  exclamation,  as  she  gazed  around, 
when  instantly  Sardia  drew  aside  a  portiere  and  looked 
up.  Standing  in  the  brilliant  light,  his  face  turned  to 
hers  with  an  almost  seraphic  smile,  his  grand  beauty 
held  her  gaze  in  admiration.  The  strength  and  sweet 
ness  and  light  of  his  spirit  beamed  upon  her  with  a 
visible  good  will,  as  if  she  had  come  to  her  best  wish 
realized  at  last,  out  of  great  tribulation.  He  came  up 
the  steps  remaining,  and  supporting  her  with  an  arm 
at  once  tender  and  vivifying,  led  her  into  the  drawing- 
room  and  seated  her  by  a  little  table,  on  which  was 
spread  a  delicate  repast  —  a  bit  of  salad,  a  slice  of 
dainty  bread,  an  olive,  a  bunch  of  grapes,  and  some 
rich  wine  which  sparkled  in  its  decanter  like  a  topaz. 

"  Refresh  yourself,"  said  he  gently,  "  let  me  see  you 
eat."  Yielding  to  his  tender  command  she  ate  and 
drank,  almost  heartily,  with  a  feeling  of  growing  satis 
faction  and  relief.  "You  ate  nothing  at  dinner,  I  no 
ticed,"  he  said,  "and  I  was  sure  in  all  this  time  you 
would  be  hungry." 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  replied,  glancing  at  the  clock,  "  it  is 
ten.  I  had  no  idea  of  it.  Where  is  every  one  ?  " 

"The  princess  and  Signor  Zante  have  gone  down  to 
the  yacht,  and  Ralfe  went  with  them.  Everything  was 
packed  and  on  board  this  afternoon,  and  I  will  join 


294  SARDIA:  A  STORY   OF   LOVE 

them  there.  There  are  still  two  hours  before  we 
sail." 

Helen  leaned  back  with  a  deep  sigh,  looking  at  him 
with  an  expression  of  sorrow  which  thrilled  him  with 
its  intensity. 

"She  will  miss  me,"  he  thought,  "she  will  miss  me. 
Come,  dear,"  he  said  aloud,  "  I  am  going  to  take  you  on 
a  pilgrimage.  I  am  going  to  show  you  a  sweet  home,  in 
which  a  sweet  woman  may  live  a  happy  life."  And 
drawing  her  from  her  chair,  he  again  put  his  kind  arm 
about  her  and  began  to  walk  along.  "  This,  dear  heart," 
he  said,  "is  the  drawing-room,  and  this  the  smoking- 
room,  and  this  the  dining-room,"  as  they  went  along  into 
each.  "  Here  is  the  music-room,  this  is  the  breakfast- 
room,"  and  so  on,  through  all  the  spacious  and  beautiful 
apartments  of  the  lower  floor.  Then,  mounting  the 
stairs,  he  opened  the  doors  of  two  or  three  chambers. 
Every  room  was  in  perfect  order,  lighted  brilliantly  and 
garnished  with  flowers.  Helen  said  not  a  word.  She 
looked  at  Sardia  in  a  sort  of  maze,  as  if  she  believed 
him  bewitched,  yet  leaned  on  him  with  a  trustful  antici 
pation  of  his  meaning  which  she  knew  would  be  given 
her  in  the  end.  He  now  flung  wide  the  door  of  Ralfe's 
apartment.  "This  is  your  room,"  he  said. 

"No,  —  no,  Ralfe's,"  she  answered,  hanging  back  a 
little,  but  in  the  full  glare  from  the  gas,  both  caught 
sight  of  a  ripple  of  soft  silk  and  laces  carelessly  flung 
across  a  chair,  and  on  the  toilet-table  a  jewel  and  rib 
bon  which  unmistakably  proclaimed  a  woman's  presence. 
He  pressed  her  hand  with  a  warm  strong  pressure,  and 
said  again,  — 

"This  is  your  room,"  while  a  clear,  modest  blush 
spread  sweetly  over  her  fair  forehead,  as  she  dropped 
her  meek  eyes.  Sardia  led  her  along,  still  opening  doors 
to  show  fresh  bright  rooms  where  her  happy  guests  had 


MISS   VISONTI   IS   GONE  295 

so  enjoyed  her  hospitality,  and  then  paused  before  that 
of  Sybil  Visonti. 

"No,  no,"  gasped  Helen,  "don't,  Sardia,  don't.  I 
cannot  see  her.  I  can  never  see  her  again.  Please 
don't  make  me  go  in  there.  I  fear  her.  I  shudder  at 
her." 

For  answer,  he  flung  wide  the  door.  The  room  was 
not  lighted,  save  by  the  full  moon,  which  streamed  in 
silvery  radiance  through  the  open  casements,  which 
formed  nearly  one  side  of  the  delightful  chamber.  The 
bed,  no  longer  tossed  with  the  rich  crimson  hangings 
and  covers  of  satin  which  pleased  the  Visonti,  was  made 
up  in  its  cream  white  laces  and  looked  like  the  couch  of 
a  maiden  bride.  On  the  table,  a  great  bunch  of  migno 
nette,  a  flower  beloved  by  Helen,  and  detested  by  Sybil, 
sent  out  its  delicate  fragrance.  Not  a  trace,  not  a  sign 
or  token  of  Miss  Visonti  remained.  Sardia  turned  up 
the  gas  and  said  smiling,  — 

"Look  in  the  closet,  dear.  There  is  no  skeleton 
there,"  and  timidly  Helen  peeped  in,  to  find  it  stripped 
and  empty,  —  not  so  much  as  a  veil  remaining  to  remind 
her  of  her  whom  she  almost  feared  would  leap  upon  her 
again  from  its  recesses.  "  Listen,"  said  he. 

The  servants,  who  had  been  ordered  to  keep  as  silent 
as  possible  during' Miss  Visonti's  illness,  had  collected 
on  the  laundry  steps,  not  far  from  this  part  of  the  house, 
and  were  singing  a  jolly  tune  in  chorus,  laughing  and 
chatting  and  "  fooling "  as  servants  will,  when  free  to 
do  so. 

"  She  has  gone  ! "  exclaimed  Helen,  looking  about  with 
an  air  of  one  who  has  received  a  gift  of  unexpected 
value.  "  She  has  gone." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Sardia,  "  you  will  never  see  her  again. 
Come,  let  us  go  and  sit  in  the  moonlight,  and  I  will  tell 
you  about  it." 


296  SARDIA:   A   STORY  OF  LOVE 

On  the  little  balcony  where  so  many  happy  talks  had 
almost  made  its  stones  historic  to  the  inmates  of  Spray 
View,  seated  at  her  feet,  Sardia  told  her  how,  when  she 
had  gone  to  the  nursery  with  the  boy,  Dr.  Davis  had 
immediately  requested  Ralfe  to  send  the  close  carriage 
around  to  the  door. 

"  '  The  young  woman  cannot  remain  in  a  private  house 
another  hour,'  said  he.  '  She  is  a  maniac,  dangerous,  and 
I  believe,  incurable.  I  will  drive  her  at  once  to 
Dr.  Spiers'  private  asylum,  where  the  very  best  care 
will  be  given  her,  but  where  she  will  be  properly  re 
strained.' 

"The  nurse  and  he  accompanied  her,  and  in  fifteen 
minutes  they  were  gone.  Ralfe  and  I  then  ordered 
Jeanette  to  pack  and  the  other  servants  to  put  the  house 
into  the  perfect  order  you  have  seen  it,  and  then  Ralfe 
himself  left  it  to  me  to  tell  you,  —  and  to  bid  you  good- 
by.  He  felt  that  you  would  not  be  able,  as  proposed, 
to  go  down  to  the  '  Uarda '  when  we  sailed,  so  he  took 
all  your  messages  for  you,  and  will  bring  back  their 
farewells.  Is  the  little  boy  all  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  was  only  stunned.  We  shall  keep  him  always, 
Sardia." 

"  Ralfe  said  so,"  he  answered  quietly. 

Helen  sat  in  silence  a  few  moments,  bending  over 
Sardia,  and  caressingly  moving  her  hand  over  his 
curls,  looking  down  into  his  face  with  the  gentle 
tears  dropping  on  her  hand,  and  once  even  on  his 
cheek.  She  stooped  to  brush  it  off,  but  he  stayed  her 
hand. 

"  No,  dearest,  it  is  precious.     Let  me  wear  it." 

"  They  are  tears  of  joy  and  sorrow  mingled,"  she  mur 
mured.  "  Who  ever  had  a  friend  like  you  ?  What 
woman  has  ever  known  a  love  and  loyalty  like  yours  ? 
Sardia,  I  am  to  lose  you.  Ralfe  is  to  lose  you.  Can  we 


THE  KISS  297 

bear  it  ?  But  yes,  to  ask  you  to  stay  would  be  too  much. 
Oh,  believe  me,  you  do  not  go  alone.  In  those  far  lands 
when  on  some  lonely  night,  you  stand  with  longing  eyes 
turned  westward,  believe  me,  you  will  then  be  not  alone. 
My  heart  has  been  bound  to  yours  by  bonds  that  no  time 
nor  space  can  alter.  I  shall  surround  you  with  my 
prayers,  I  shall  enter  into  your  work,  I  shall  aspire  with 
you,  suffer  with  you,  wait  with  you,  until  that  hour  when 
all  shall  meet  as  the  angels  do,  in  an  ineffable  union 
which  is  bound  by  no  conventions,  prevented  by  no  ties. 
If  you  have  given  me  my  soul's  desire,  if  you  have  given 
me  to  rest  in  peace  upon  the  heart  I  love,  you  have  won 
from  me  for  yourself  a  feeling  indescribable,  —  but  not 
of  earth.  Be  blest  by  it,  Sardia,  even  to  the  end  of  your 
whole  life." 

"  My  saint,"  he  murmured,  as  they  both  rose,  and 
moved  by  one  impulse,  drew  together.  Their  lips  met 
in  one  long  kiss,  a  kiss  which  pressed  by  lips  so  pure  on 
lips  so  brave  and  true,  is  the  seal  of  eternal  chivalry  and 
honor  among  men ;  the  sign  of  perennial  righteousness 
and  faith  among  women,  while  human  hearts  shall  abne 
gate  themselves  and  human  souls  shall  burn  with  grate 
ful  love.  With  one  more  strong  clasp  of  her  clinging 
hands,  one  more  look  into  her  sad  face,  Sardia  smiled 
cheerfully  and  sweetly.  "It  will  not  be  many  years," 
said  he,  "  Life  flies  swiftly,"  and  walked  away. 

She  watched  him  until  he  turned  into  the  path  that 
would  lead  him  out  of  sight.  Then  he  paused  and  taking 
off  his  hat,  stood  and  looked  back  at  her  for  a  full  min 
ute.  Then  with  one  grand  gesture  of  farewell,  he  dis 
appeared.  She  sat  hiding  her  face  in  her  arms,  for  a 
long  time,  thinking  over  the  events  of  this  strange,  sad, 
sweet  summer,  and  seeing  everywhere  Sardia's  quiet, 
perfect  devotion.  She  was  awakened  by  Ealfe's  voice, 
whose  gentle  cadence  broke  her  reverie. 


298  SARDIA:  A  STORY  OF  LOVE 

"  Dear  wife,"  he  said,  lingering  on  the  word  as  if  in 
love  with  it,  "I  have  come  to  bring  you  the  last  message 
from  our  friends.  The  princess,  when  I  left  her,  was 
rolling  a  cigarette  as  comfortably  as  if  she  were  merely 
bound  on  a  trip  across  the  bay.  Her  cabin  is  a  dream 
of  luxury.  Satan  was  lying  asleep  at  her  feet.  Signor 
Zante  is  in  a  hammock  on  deck,  his  face  serene  and  filled 
with  a  grave  sweet  joy.  He  believes  they  will  do 
wonders  in  lifting  the  poor  natives  out  of  their  misery. 
As  I  hurried  back,  I  met  Sardia.  He  was  walking  slowly, 
his  hat  off,  and  the  wind  blowing  his  hair  in  a  sort  of 
halo  about  his  head.  It  looked  golden  in  the  moonlight, 
—  I  could  not  help  noticing  it.  When  I  came  up  to  him, 
he  looked  at  me  long  and  steadily.  'Yes,  I  can  trust 
you/  he  said,  and  then  he  uttered  slowly,  'We  have 
kissed  each  other.'  And  do  you  know,  Helen,  I  put  my 
arms  right  around  his  neck,  then,  and  we  kissed  each 
other  too.  He  then  gave  me  a  little  box,  and  said, 
'  Here  is  a  jewel  that  I  wish  Helen  would  always  wear, 
in  remembrance  of  me,  if  you  are  willing.  Are  you  quite 
willing  ?  Will  you  take  it  to  her  ?  '  I  told  him,  '  Yes, 
I  am  more  than  willing.  Whenever  I  see  her  wear  it,  I 
shall  feel  you  are  near  us,  my  best  friend.'  So  then  we 
shook  hands,  and  I  have  brought  it.  Let  us  go  into  the 
house  and  see  what  it  is." 

Leaning  gently  against  her  husband,  Helen  went  with 
him  beneath  a  chandelier,  and  they  opened  the  packet. 
On  a  snowy  satin  bed,  rested  a  cross  of  sapphires,  encir 
cled  by  diamonds  white  and  glittering  as  some  star  that 
studs  the  northern  sky.  The  fine  chain  which  held  it 
was  clasped  with  another  sapphire,  so  perfect,  large  and 
luminous,  that  its  glory  seemed  to  reveal  depths  ever 
receding  from  the  eye.  Across  the  back  was  a  little 
band  on  which  was  chased  as  if  in  his  own  handwriting, 
the  one  word :  Sardia. 


PURITY  AND  TRUTH  299 

Kalfe  clasped  the  royal  gift  about  his  wife's  neck, 
where  it  rose  and  fell  with  her  true  heart  beats,  and 
would  lie  there  even  when  her  white  bosom  was  motion 
less  beneath  the  grasses. 

"  Purity  and  truth,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  blue  and 
white,  "  they  are  fitly  placed.  They  represent  you  both. 
But  oh,  dear  Christ,  how  have  I  deserved  it !  For  me 
the  crown,  —  the  cross  for  Sardia  ! " 


THE  END. 


TROWBRIDGFS    1 1  •  •  mr  *  ' 

U ,  •  •  •  NOVELS  •  •  •  UNIFORM  EDITION 


FARNELL'S  FOLLY. 

"  As  a  Novel  of  American  Society,  tins  book  has  never  been  surpassed. 
Hearty  in  style  and  wholesome  in  tone.  Its  pathos  often  melting!  U» 
tears,  its  humor  always  exciting  merriment." 

CUDJO'S    CAVE. 

Like  "TTncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  this  thrilling  story  was  a  stimulating 
power  in  the  civil  war,  and  had  an  immense  sale.  Secretary  Chase,  ot 
President  Lincoln's  cabinet,  said  of  it,  "I  could  not  help  reading  it :  it 
interested  and  impressed  me  profoundly.  ' 

THE    THREE    SCOUTS. 

Another  popular  book  of  the  same  stamp,  of  which  "  The  Boston  Traa- 
script"  said,  "It  promises  to  have  a  larger  sale  than  'Cudjo's  Cave.' 
It  is  impossible  to  epen  the  volume  at  any  page  without  being  struck  by 
the  quick  movement  and  pervading  anecdote  of  the  story." 

THE    DRUMMER    BOY. 
A  Story  of  Burnside's  Expedition.     Illustrated  by  F.  O.  C.  BARLEY. 

"  The  most  popular  book  of  the  season.  It  will  sell  without  pushing," 
—  Zion's  Herald. 

MARTIN    MERRIVALE:    His   X   Mark. 

"  Strong  in  humor,  pathos,  and  unabated  interest.  In  none  of  the  booki 
Issued  from  the  American  press  can  there  be  found  a  purer  or  more  deli 
cate  sentiment,  a  more  genuine  good  taste,  or  a  nicer  appreciation  and 
brighter  delineation  of  character."  —  English  Journal. 

NEIGHBOR    JACKWOOD. 

A  story  of  New-England  life  in  the  slave-tracking  days.  Dramatized 
for  the  Boston  Museum,  it  had  a  long  run  to  crowded  houses.  The  story 
Is  one  of  Trowbridge's  very  best. 

COUPON    BONDS,  and  other  Stories. 

The  leading  story  is  undoubtedly  the  most  popular  of  Ti  ^wbridge's 
short  stories.  The  others  are  varied  in  character,  but  are  either  intensely 
Interesting  or  "  highly  amusing." 

NEIGHBORS'    WIVES. 

Ail  ingenious  and  well-told  story.  Two  neighbors'  wives  are  tempted 
beyond  their  strength  to  resist,  and  steal  each  from  the  other.  One  is 
discovered  in  the  act,  under  ludicrous  and  humiliating  circumstances, 
but  '.s  generously  pardoned,  with  a  promise  of  secrecy.  Of  course  she 
\.V/«"s  her  secret,  and  of  course  perplexities  come.  It  is  a  capital  story 

12mo.     Cloth.    Price  per  volume,  fl.SO. 


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24 


DOUGLAS 


A   "WOMAN'S    INHERITANCE. 

"  Miss  Douglas's  Novels  are  all  worth  reading,  and  this  is  one  full  of. 
suggestions,  interesting  situations,  and  bright  dialogue."  —  Cottage  Hearth, 

OUT  OF  THE  WRECK;  or,  Was  it  a  Victory? 
"  Bright  and  entertaining  as  Miss  Douglas's  stories  always  are,  thia, 
her  new  one,  leads  them  all."  —  Xew  Bedford  Standard. 

FLOYD    GRANDON'S    HONOR. 
"  Fascinating  throughout,  and  worthy  of  the  reputation  of  the  author." 

WHOM    KATHIE    MARRIED. 

Kathie  was  the  heroine  of  the  popular  series  of  Kathie  Stories  for 
foung  people,  the  readers  of  which  were  very  anxious  to  know  with 
whom  Kathie  settled  down  in  life.  Hence  this  story,  charmingly  written. 

LOST    IN   A    GREAT   CITY. 

"  There  are  the  power  of  delineation  and  robustness  of  expression  that 
would  credit  a  masculine  hand  in  the  present  volume. 

THE    OLD    WOMAN   WHO    LIVED    IN    A    SHOE. 
"The  romances  of  Miss  Douglas's  creation  are  all  thrillingly  interest- 
Ing."  —  Cambridge  Tribune. 

HOPE    MILLS  ;   or,  Between  Friend  and  Sweetheart. 
"  Amanda  Douglas  is  one  of  the  favorite  authors  of  American  novel. 
readers."  —  Manchester  Mirror. 

FROM    HAND    TO    MOUTH. 

"  There  is  real  satisfaction  in  reading  this  book,  from  the  fact  that  w« 
can  so  readily  'take  it  home'  to  ourselves."  —  Portland  Argus. 

NELLY  KINNARD'S  KINGDOM. 

"  The  Hartford  Religious  Herald  "  says,  "  This  story  is  so  fascinating, 
that  one  can  hardly  lay  it  down  after  taking  it  up." 

IN   TRUST;  or,  Dr.  Bertrand's  Household. 
"  She  writes  in  a  free,  fresh  and  natural  way,  and  her  characters  are 
never  overdrawn."  —  Manchester  Mirror. 

CLAUDIA. 

"  The  plot  is  very  dramatic,  and  the  denouement  startling.    Claudia,  the 
heroine,  is  one  of  those  self-sacrificing  character  which  it  is  the  glory  of 
the  female  sex  to  produce."  —  Boston  Journal. 
STEPHEN    DANE. 

"This  is  one  of  this  author's  happiest  and  most  successful  attempts  at 
novel-writing,  for  which  a  grateful  public  will  applaud  her."  —  Herald. 

HOME    NOOK;  or,  The  Crown  of  Duty. 

"  An  interesting  story  of  home-life,  not  wanting  in  incident,  and  writ 
ten  in  forcible  and  attractive  style."  —  New  York  Graphic. 

SYDNIE  ADRIANCE;  or,  Trying  the  World. 
**  The  works  of  Miss  Douglas  have  stood  the  test  of  popular  judgment" 

SEVEN   DAUGHTERS. 
11  The  charm  of  the  story  is  the  perfectly  home-like  air  which  pervades  it." 

OSBORNF,   OF   ARROCHAR. 
"One  of  the  best  of  Miss  Douglas's  stories." 

THE  FORTUNES  OF  THE  FAR  AD  ATS 

"  Of  unexceptionable  literary  merit,  deeply  interesting  in  the  develop. 
ment  of  the  plot."  —  Fall  River  Neics. 

FOES  OF   HER   HOUSEHOLD 

"  Full  of  interest  from  the  first  chapter  to  the  end." 

A  MODERN  ADAM  AND  EVE  IN  A  GARDEN 

M  It  is  a  good  novel,  not  only  for  adults,  but  young  folks  as  well." 


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NOTED 

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book. "  —  New-  York  Tribune. 
TRAVELS   AND   OBSERVATIONS   IN    THE   ORIENT,  with  a 

Hasty  Flight  in  the  Countries  of  Europe 
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FORE   AND   AFT 
A  Story  of  Actual  Sea-Life.     By  ROBERT  B.  DIXON,  M.D.     $1.25. 

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VOYAGE   OF   THE   PAPER   CANOE 
A  Geographical  Journey  of  Twenty-five  Hundred  Miles  from  Quebec  to  the 

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"  His  glowing  pen-pictures  of  '  shanty-boat '  life    on    the   great  rivers  are 
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photographed  from  nature  the  scenes  by  which  the  book  is  illustrated."  — 
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"  The  peculiar  humor  of  this  writer  is  well  known.  The  British  Isles  have 
never  before  been  looked  at  in  just  the  same  way,  —  at  least,  not  by  any  one 
who  has  notified  us  of  the  fact.  .Mr.  Bailey's  travels  possess,  accordingly,  a 
value  of  their  own  for  the  reader,  no  matter  how  many  previous  records  of 
journeys  in  the  mother  country  he  may  have  read."  —  Rochester  Express. 

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REEZY      -  -  -  -  BY  SIX   BRIGHT   WOMEN  -  -  - 


MEXICO  — PICTURESQUE,  POLITICAL,  PROGRESSIVE 
By  MARY  E.  BLAKE  and  MARGARET  K.  SULLIVAN.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"This  is  a  very  charming  volume.  The  writers  went  through  the 
country  with  their  eyes  wide  open,  and  they  have  the  faculty  of  interest 
ing  others  in  what  was  of  interest  to  them." 

A  WINTER  IN   CENTRAL  AMERICA   AND  MEXICO 

By  HELEN  J   SANBORN.     Cloth,  $1.50. 
"  A  bright,  attractive  narrative  by  a  wide-awake  Boston  girl." 

A   SUMMER   IN   THE   AZORES,  with  a  Glimpse  of  Madeira 

By  Miss  C.  ALICE  BAKER.     Little  Classic  style.     Cloth,  gilt  edges,  $1.25. 
"  Miss  Baker  gives  us  a  breezy,  entertaining  description  of  these  picturesque 

islands.     She  is  an  observing  traveller,  and  makes  a  graphic  picture  of  the 

juaint  people  and  customs." —  Chicago  Advance, 

LIFE   AT   PUGET   SOUND 

With  sketches  of  travel  in  Washington  Territory,  British  Columbia,  Oregon, 
and  California.     By  CAROLINE  C.   LEIGHTON.     i6mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 
"  Your  chapters  on  Puget  Sound  have  charmed  me.     Full  of  life,  deeply 

interesting,  and   with  just  that  class  of  facts,  and  suggestions  of  truth,  that 

tannot  fail  to  help  the  Indian  and  the  Chinese."  —  WENDELL  PHILLIPS. 

EUROPEAN   BREEZES 

ttf  MARGERY  DEANE.      Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50.      Being  chapters  of  travel 
through  Germany,  Austria,  Hungary,  and  Switzerland,  covering  places  not 
usually   visited  by  Americans  in  making  "  the  Grand  Tour  of  the  Conti 
nent,"  by  the  accomplished  writer  of  "  Newport  Breezes." 
"  A  very  bright,  fresh   and  amusing  account,  which  tells  us  about  a  host  of 

•hings  we  never  heard  ol  before,  and  is  worth  two  ordinary  books  of  European 

travel."  —  Woman's  Journal. 

BEATEN  PATHS  ;  or,  A  Woman's  Vacation  in  Europe 

By  ELLA  W.  THOMPSON.     i6mo,  cloth.     $1.50. 

A  lively  and  chatty  book  of  travel,  with  pen-pictures  humorous  and  graphic, 
that  are  decidedly  out  of  the  "  beaten  paths  "  of  description. 
AN    AMERICAN   GIRL   ABROAD 
By  Miss  ADELINE   TRAFTON,   author  of  "  His   Inheritance,"  "  Katherine 

Earle,"  etc.     i6mo.     Illustrated.     $1.50. 

"  A  sparkling  account  of  a  European  trip  by  a  wide-awake,  intelligent,  and 
Irrepressible  American  girl.  Pictured  with  a  freshness  and  vivacity  that  is 
delightful."  —  Utica  Observer. 

CURTIS   GUILD'S   TRAVELS 
BRITONS  AND  MUSCOVITES;  or,  Traits  of  Two  Empires 

Cloth,  $2.00. 

OVER  THE  OCEAN;  or,  Sights  and  Scenes  in  Foreign  Lands 
By  CURTIS  GUILD,  editor  of  "  The  Boston  Commercial  Bulletin  '    Crown  8vo. 

Cloth,  $2.50. 

"  The  utmost  that  any  European  tourist  can  hope  to  do  is  to  tell  the  old 
story  in  a  somewhat  fresh  way,  and  Mr.  Guild  has  succeeded  in  every  part  »f 
his  book  in  doing  this."  —  Philadelphia.  Bulletin. 
ABROAD  AGAIN  ;  or,  Fresh  Forays  in  Foreign  Fields 
Uniform   with   "  Over   the   Ocean."      By   the    same    author       Crown  8vo. 

Cloth  $2.50. 

"  He  has  given  us  a  life-picture.  Europe  is  done  in  a  style  that  must  serve 
as  an  invaluable  guide  to  those  who  go  '  over  the  ocean,'  as  well  as  an  inter 
esting  companion."  —  Halifax  Citizen. 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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